


Treacherous

by FireflysLove



Series: Lipstick, a Shield, and a Metal Arm [2]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Barnes Family, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Steve Rogers, F/M, M/M, Multi, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-03-16 02:43:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 21,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3471392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireflysLove/pseuds/FireflysLove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a horrifying glimpse into a reality that could have been, Peggy comes home and gets back to her life. Weddings, Becca Barnes, the Howling Commandos, and a pair of husbands. What could possibly go wrong?</p>
<p>6/5/15, The new chapter 10 replaces the current chapter 11.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Clearly Now

**Author's Note:**

> What, you thought I was going to go with the pain that IS canon?
> 
> My Tumblr: [Firefly's Love](http://fireflyslove.tumblr.com)

She sleeps fitfully that night, and Bridget makes her take medications that are supposed to help her. They tell her she has Alzheimer’s, that it is a slow degradation of her mind, stealing her memories. Except what they say happened, that Steve never made it home from the _Valkyrie_ , that Bucky was captured and made into an assassin, and that she lived a long and happy life with another man, doesn’t make any sense.

They say it’s the disease in its final stages. She hears the nurses telling Bridget that she might only have a week or two left.

Peggy dreams that night of her own life, of Steve and Bucky and home.

The next morning, Bridget helps her out of bed and to a table downstairs. She eats the unfamiliar food with the unfamiliar people. They try to make conversation, but she ignores it.

Back in her bed, she idly turns the pages of a book, paying it no attention. It has illustrations, though it isn’t a children’s book. One of them catches her eye, a girl and a younger boy play in a field of daisies. Her hair is chestnut, her eyes a deep chocolate brown. He is the same colors as the sky, sun bright hair and cerulean eyes.

They seem to turn and beckon to her. She allows herself to be pulled into the illustration, to stand in the daisies, in her own body, not the elderly one that is holding the book. They each grab a hand and pull her further into the field, dancing as only small children can do.

“Children! Bring your mother back here!” a laughing voice shouts off from the left.

The girl tugs on Peggy’s hand, and they swirl to face a tree. Under its large canopy, a checkered blanket is spread. A picnic basket waits on it. The boy lets go of her hand and sprints ahead of them. A man steps out from behind the tree and catches the boy up in his arms, tossing him up into the air. The boy giggles in delight. As he catches the boy, the man turns around, a huge smile on his face. It doesn’t surprise Peggy at all that the man’s chestnut hair matches the girl holding her hand’s hair. She and the girl reach the blanket, and sit down, and the girl climbs into the lap of the other man, who has suddenly appeared next to the basket. He is as sunny in coloring as the boy.

She knows him…knows them both. Not the children. Yet they are familiar, as well. This… dream feels more real than the elderly body had. This dream…

She remembers then. The German voice. The tranquilizer dart in her leg. A voice lulling her into that dream.

The daisies and children disappear then, as she surfaces with a scream.

She’s in the warehouse, still. On a table, not strapped down. Her entire body hurts, her mouth feels like cotton, and her stomach has wrapped itself around her spine and is crying.

Slowly, so slowly, she sits up. The room she is in is empty of people. She steps down, onto bare feet. Her legs are weak, but not as weak as they had been in the dream. Peggy looks around for a weapon, and is surprised to find her own pistol on a table beside the door. Next to it are her shoes, and then her dogtags. She puts them all back on as quickly as she can, and then opens the door. It leads into the main room, the same one where she was shot. The Tesseract is still there, glowing balefully. Three men stand around it.

The first never hears the shot that takes him in the back of the head. The second turns and gets a shot straight to the heart. She aims for the third, but he whacks the gun out of her hand. He turns to grab an instrument off the table in front of him, and she grabs the Tesseract itself. The canister is warm to the touch, but not uncomfortably so. She swings it wildly at his head. It connects, but he doesn’t go down. So she hits him again. And again, until he stops struggling. Then she shoves the Tesseract in a bag that masks its glow, and turns to leave.

On her way out, she finds their headquarters, and takes anything useful, including another gun, a jacket, and a suitcase full of money. She hails a cab, whose driver looks at her very strangely.

“Take me to the airport,” she says, dropping a bill onto the front seat. He looks at the denomination, and drives away.

She walks up to the ticket agent, and drops the suitcase that contains both the money and the Tesseract onto the ground. Putting on a Brooklyn accent, she spins a tale of woe to the woman about how she had come to San Francisco to marry a soldier, only to find him in bed with another woman, and how he paid her to go away, but now she has to go home to New York in shame.

“Oh, honey,” the woman says. “I’m so sorry. We’ll get you on the first plane to New York.”

And so she finds herself, nearly 14 hours later, standing outside the SSR office. On the plane she had learned that she’d been in the warehouse for a week. That certainly explained the gnawing hunger.

She hefts the bag onto her shoulder and walks in.

The woman on duty at the switchboard stares at her with wide eyes.

“Not now, Sue,” she says.

Sue nods, and opens the door. Peggy walks through, and straight up to the main bullpen of the SSR. The board that usually contains the current case is full of pictures, with her face at the center. As she walks through the desks, conversation stops, and everyone stares at her. She reaches the desk that Howard Stark is occupying (her own), reaches into the bag, and extracts the Tesseract.

“Don’t lose it this time,” she says.

“I… will try not to,” he chokes out.

“Carter?” Dooley asks. “How the hell did you…”

“Not now, Chief. I have a lot of questions myself, but I haven’t eaten in a week, and I very much would just like to go home,” she says.

“Is anyone else aware that you have come back?” he asks.

“No,” she says, then leaves.

 

* * *

 

It’s snowing softly when the cab drops her off in front of Steve and Bucky’s building. She pushes the door open, and goes upstairs to the apartment. The sound of voices comes from inside. Her keys were lost with her bag, and so she knocks on the door.

A few moments later, she hears the lock being turned, and the door opens to reveal Rebecca Barnes.

“So I’m not dead,” Peggy says.

“Well that’s good to know,” Rebecca replies.

“Who is it, Becca?” Bucky’s voice comes from the kitchen.

“Your girlfriend,” Rebecca calls back.

“Ha ha, very funny,” Bucky replies.

“Who else is here?” Peggy asks.

“Just Bucky, Steve, and I,” Rebecca says. Then louder, “If you don’t believe me, why don’t you come see?”

Peggy hears the sound of chair legs against the wood floor, and steps inside, shutting the door behind her. Bucky appears around the corner, and freezes.

“Do I usually lie to you?” Rebecca asks him.

“No, Bex. You don’t,” he says, not taking his eyes off Peggy. She drops the suitcase on the floor. Rebecca nearly gets taken out by her brother as he rushes forward and sweeps Peggy up into his arms, spinning her around, and nearly smothering her with his face.

“I’ll go then,” Rebecca says.

Bucky breaks for a moment to say, “See you tomorrow.” before he hoists Peggy up onto his hips, her ankles locked behind him.

“I could use some food,” she says.

“We have carrots,” he replies, and they stop in the kitchen for her to grab a few. He sets her down on the counter.

“It’s a long story,” she says. “And I’d rather tell it as few times as possible.”

He hands her a carrot, then says, “Steve’s gone a little bit nuts.”

“Did they declare me dead or something?” she asks.

“They did,” he says.

“They gave you both at least two weeks,” she says.

“I know,” he says. “And to be fair, they did find a guy dead.”

“Where is Steve?” Peggy asks.

“He got himself drunk and collapsed in bed last I saw,” Bucky says. “On Stark’s special ‘Super Soldier Only’ liquor.”

“Wonderful,” Peggy says.

“You can’t say you didn’t have the same reaction,” Bucky says.

“Oh, I know. I was just hoping there was nothing that could get him drunk,” she says.

Bucky’s reply is cut off by heavy footsteps coming across the living room. Steve enters the kitchen, pulls open a cabinet, extracts a cup, and fills it at the sink. His eyes are completely bloodshot.

“Hi, Buck,” he says. “Becca go home?”

“She did,” Bucky says.

“Coming to bed soon?” he asks.

“How drunk _are_ you?” Bucky asks.

“Drunk enough to be hallucinating Peggy sitting on the counter eating a carrot,” Steve says firmly.

“She’s not a hallucination, Steve,” Bucky says.

“Of course she is,” Steve says, then pokes Peggy in the forehead.


	2. Showdown With A Sloth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a huge breakfast, a broken coffee table, and a lunch date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for happier days.
> 
> Oops. Didn't mean to sit on this for a week...

Peggy wakes up hungry, which is not unexpected, and stumbles out of bed in search of some food. She pulls on the first pair of pants she finds, which are apparently the pair that Bucky had abandoned before he jumped into bed. She ties the drawstring around her hips, then cuffs the bottom. Reaching into the dresser, she grabs a shirt that is far too big for her, buttons it haphazardly, and wanders off toward the kitchen.

Steve is passed out on the couch where Bucky had put him after he continued to insist that Peggy was a figment of his imagination. The snoring is rather impressive.

Peggy pulls a pan out, puts it on the stove. She empties the contents of the refrigerator onto every horizontal surface in the kitchen (and drags the coffee table in from the living room, after removing Steve’s leg), then surveys the results. There is more than enough bacon, although it’s the American kind. Just a few sausages. Lots of eggs. She is delighted to find potatoes left over from the pot roast that had been the source of the carrots the night before. (Apparently Rebecca was a good cook.) A fresh loaf of bread. Mushrooms. And tomatoes, blessed, blessed tomatoes.

The sausages go in the oven, the mushrooms in the pan with the bacon. As they are cooking, she pulls out another pan and pours a can of beans into it. As soon as the mushrooms and bacon are done, she drops an entire stick of butter into the pan, and after it melts, the bread. The sausages come out of the oven and halved tomatoes follow it in. Amidst all this, she has made a pot of coffee, and herself a cup of tea, and put most of the food back in the refrigerator

She’s pulling the tomatoes out of the oven when Bucky walks into the kitchen, scrubbing at his eyes. Since she’s stolen his pants, he kidnapped Steve’s, and they are similarly cuffed to hers.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asks blearily.

“Making breakfast,” she says.

“With literally all the food in the kitchen,” Bucky replies.

“It’s a full English. I’m still hungry, and you two are both superhuman, and one of you probably has a massive hangover,” Peggy says.

“So this is the British answer to the hangover?” Bucky asks.

“There are four rashers of bacon in there,” Peggy says.

“How do I eat it?” he asks.

She hands him a plate, then points to the food. “Take a third of it,” she says.

They sit down at the table, and he fills her in on the stupid things Steve has done in the last week. He’s just getting around to describing the showdown with a sloth when the coffee table falls apart.

“Who put that table there?” Steve asks, springing to his feet.

Peggy bites her lip in an attempt not to laugh at him.

“Have some food, Stevie,” Bucky says.

“I… where did all this come from?” Steve asks.

“The refrigerator,” Bucky replies.

“And the pantry. And I think those potatoes were on the counter,” Peggy says.

“I’m still drunk,” Steve says, looking at the wall above Peggy’s head.

“Do you _usually_ hallucinate when you drink?” Bucky asks.

“Howard put a _lot_ of alcohol in that alcohol,” Steve says.

Bucky puts his face into his palms.

“Have some bacon,” Peggy says.

“If you say so,” Steve says. “You’ll be gone by the time this headache is.”

Peggy rolls her eyes and hands him a plate.

“I don’t know why he doesn’t believe I’m real,” she says to Bucky.

“He fought a sloth last week,” Bucky replies.

“True,” Peggy says.

“Bucky, are you wearing my pants?” Steve asks around a mouthful of toast.

“Yep,” Bucky replies.

“Why?”

“Because Peggy stole mine.”

The rest of the meal continues in the same state, with Steve talking to Peggy, but as if she will disappear at any moment.

Finally, she turns to Bucky and says, “I have to go into the office and drop off the report I wrote last night and then go back to my apartment. Maybe you can convince him I’m real by the time I get back.”

“I’m probably not going to have much luck with that,” he says.

She laughs, and goes to the bedroom to collect her clothes.

 

* * *

 

Half an hour later, she’s in her apartment, having spent nearly fifteen minutes explaining to Mrs. Fry that the telephone company did, in fact, have emergency conferences on the West Coast.

She changes out of her mission clothes and narrowly talks herself out of just chucking them. A good long, hot shower erases most of the dirt and grease from her, but there is still a massive yellow and green bruise on her thigh from where the dart hit her.

As she is returning from the showers, Angie comes out of her room, dressed to go outside.

“Peggy!” she cries. “Where have you been?”

“Company conference in California,” Peggy says.

“I don’t believe you,” Angie replies.

“Come inside,” Peggy says.

Angie follows her into her apartment, shutting and locking the door behind her. Angie hangs her hat and coat on Peggy’s coat tree.

“I can’t tell you anything,” Peggy says. “But you can ask questions.

“You don’t work for the phone company,” Angie asks, sitting on the bed.

“True,” Peggy says.

“And you can’t tell me where you work because it’s classified,” Angie says.

Peggy opens her dresser for undergarments, and puts them on before draping her bathrobe over the headboard.

“True,” Peggy says.

“But it’s dangerous.”

“True.”

“And that’s how you got that bruise.”

“True.”

“You’re secretly a super soldier,” Angie posits. “Wait, you’re secretly Captain America!”

Peggy laughs at this, “No, not quite. And I’m not a super soldier.”

She is mostly dressed now, and sits down at her vanity to do her hair and makeup. No time to dry her hair, so she rolls it up and puts a scarf over it.

“That’s exactly something a super soldier would say,” Angie says.

“I’ve met Captain America,” Peggy says.

“You _have_?” Angie replies. “What’s he like?”

“He was rather out of it last time I saw him,” Peggy says darkly.

“Oh crap,” Angie says. “I just noticed the time. I have a date, and I’m going to be late.”

“And you’re a poet, and you didn’t even know it,” Peggy says.

“Hush,” Angie replies.

“This early in the day?” Peggy asks.

“He’s a lawyer or an accountant or something. It’s his lunch break,” Angie replies. “He’s a nice fella, lost a leg in the War.”

“Well good luck,” Peggy says.

“You too,” Angie says with a smile. She collects her purse, jacket, and coat, then leaves.

Peggy leaves soon after, her briefcase containing not only her report but also a change of clothes, a nightdress, and a few toiletries. Upon her arrival at the SSR, she is whisked into the conference room, and gives the Chief a report on what happened. He fills her in on the details.

“We found the body of a high-ranking SSR officer not far from the location you were dropped off at,” Dooley says. “Recognize him?”

“That was the man who was in the car when I got off the plane,” Peggy confirms.

“As far as we can tell, the whole thing was a set-up, with the Tesseract as bait. You were never supposed to survive whatever that mind control was. We’re going to be looking into it,” Dooley says.

“There are three dead bodies in that warehouse,” Peggy says.

“We thought there might be, so we had them taken care of,” Dooley says.

“If that’s all?” Peggy asks.

“I want you to take a week off,” Dooley says. “Stark’s working on something with the big guys up at the top, and word on the street is, they’re interested in you. If they are, you’re going to need to be well rested for that. Go home, eat something.”

“Thank you, sir,” she says.

On her way out, she stops by her desk to collect a few files that she wants to look at during her time off. She’s just heading to the hall when Sousa comes in, ostensibly from his lunch break.

“Hey, can I ask you for more advice?” he asks.

“Another girl?” Peggy replies, lips quirking.

“Same girl, actually,” he says. “We just had lunch.”

Something about that rings a distant bell in Peggy’s mind.

“What do you want to ask, Daniel?” Peggy says.

“She wants to go dancing,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “But I don’t… dance well…”

“Go somewhere where neither of you will be recognized. Manhattan. The Bronx. Jersey City. Make a fool of yourself, but have fun doing it,” Peggy says.

“That’s… thank you,” he says. “Enjoy your time off.”

“Enjoy your dancing,” she says.

It’s snowing again when she leaves. She heads for home. 


	3. I'm Sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally part of the next chapter, but that one turned out to have a very specific theme of its own. (WEDDING PLANNING!) So here's one very, very short chapter.

She lets herself in, toes off her shoes, and hangs up her coat. The remains of the coffee table have been removed from the hallway. In the kitchen, Bucky is playing solitaire. Peggy opens the fridge and pulls out a soda.

“How’s Steve feeling this afternoon?” she asks, sitting down.

“Like an idiot,” Bucky replies. “He realized at about 11 am that you weren’t a hallucination. Last time I saw, he was face down in the bed.”

He finishes his game, and tosses half the deck at her.

“Ever played War?” he asks.

“Have I ever played War,” she scoffs.

Bucky smiles darkly.

 

* * *

 

Peggy sputters. “How the hell did you win five in a row?”

“He cheats,” Steve says from the doorway.

“That is true,” Bucky says. “You try playing against Georgie. She’s evil.”

“There will be no cheating allowed from here on out,” Peggy says in her most imperious voice.

“Oh, he’s been doing that since he was eight,” Steve says.

“I ain’t reformin’ now,” Bucky says.

“That means I’ll have to cheat better than both of you,” Peggy says.

Bucky snorts.

 

* * *

 

They have left over pot roast for dinner, and Peggy spends a large amount of the meal staring at Steve over the rim of her cup.

He glances at her a few times, then scratches the back of his neck. “I’m sorry I thought you were a hallucination,” he finally blurts out.

Peggy raises her eyebrows at him, and chews on another carrot.

“What finally convinced you?” she asks.

Bucky pulls down the collar of his shirt to reveal a greenish bruise on his chest.

“I don’t remember putting that there myself,” Steve mutters.

“It’s a damn good thing you get toothy when you’re tired,” Bucky says.

“I was hungry,” Peggy says primly. “And you looked tasty.”

Bucky chokes on his drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: All the Barnes sisters in one place! Angie! Howard! The Howling Commandos!


	4. The Winifred Barnes Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bridal Party Assemble!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few more catastrophes before the wedding. 
> 
> (And god help Winnie Barnes on the day that Becca comes home from a weekend trip married because she eloped.)
> 
> Aaaand, [Peggy's dress](http://weddingdash.wpengine.netdna-cdn.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/Arch_of_oars_at_Wedding_of_Iris_Gould__former_sea_Ranger_.jpg)

_Late February – Mid-March 1946_

* * *

 

One day, Peggy finds herself ensconced in the kitchen of Bucky’s childhood home, his mother fussing over her.

“Now, I know Steve’s not really our son, but we see him as such, and we’d be honored if you’d include us in your wedding planning,” Winifred Barnes says.

“Ma,” Bucky groans.

“Hush, Bucky. You’ll get your turn when you get married,” Winnie says, waving her hand in the direction of her eldest child.

“Mrs. Barnes, I’m honored,” Peggy starts.

“Oh, it’s nothing. We’re all just so happy that Steve has found a girl as special as you,” Winnie says. The oven dings, and she bustles over to extract the banana bread.

Rebecca leans over to whisper in Peggy’s ear, “It’s easier just to go with it. Helen tried to limit Mom, but ended up sobbing in the corner one night. After that she left all the decisions up to Mom.”

“I understand you are Anglican,” Winnie says, returning to the table.

“I suppose,” Peggy says. Religion wasn’t a topic she thought about very often.

“Do you have any objections to a Catholic ceremony?” Winnie asks. “There’s a lovely church down the street, and all of the children were baptized there. Father Julius has performed many weddings.”

“I have no problem with a Catholic wedding,” Peggy says.

“Oh, good,” Winnie says. “Now there’s the matter of your attendants.”

“Ma, let her plan her own wedding!” Bucky says.

“I’m just offering suggestions!” Winnie says.

“I’d like to ask a few people before I put anything in writing,” Peggy says.

Winnie sighs. “It’s only five months until the big day.”

“Mom,” Rebecca says, “do you remember the weddings during the war?”

“Those _shotgun_ affairs have no place being mentioned in this household,” Winnie says, levelling a glare at Rebecca.

“Despite the fact that Helen and Richard were engaged on a Thursday and married on a Monday,” Rebecca mutters.

“What?” Winnie asks.

“Nothing, Mom,” Rebecca sighs.

 

* * *

 

“What do you think of this one?” Peggy asks, twirling.

The four women seated on the couch glance at each other, and shake their heads in unison.

“Too long,” Helen says. “You have fantastic calves.”

Peggy sighs and goes back to the dressing room. The next dress is a frothy concoction, which seems to be mostly constructed of air and lace.

Angie falls in love with it immediately. For herself.

“I suppose it’s probably too early to buy my wedding dress…” she says with a heavy sigh.

“How long have you been with your fella?” Georgia asks.

“Three weeks,” Angie says with a smirk.

“It’s probably too early,” Helen says.

“Someday,” Angie says with a sigh.

Peggy returns to the dressing room and extracts herself from the gown, placing it delicately back on the hanger. There’s a knock at the door, and she barely has time to pull a bathrobe on before it opens. Rebecca slips in, trailing a dress behind her.

“I saw this on the rack,” she says, proffering the snow white gown.

Peggy pulls it off the hanger and holds it up. It’s a long sleeved, tea length gown. The bodice is covered with lace, which also makes up the sleeves. Rebecca helps her into it, buttoning up the back and smoothing out the layers. Peggy turns to see the back.

“It’s perfect,” she says.

“I thought it might be,” Rebecca says, perhaps a bit too smugly.

“I have something I’d like to ask you,” Peggy starts hesitantly.

“You want me to keep my mother’s hands off your wedding?” Rebecca asks.

“Well, that too, but I’d like you to be my maid of honor,” Peggy says.

“Really?” Rebecca asks after a moment. She looks floored.

Peggy shrugs, “I don’t have any sisters, or close female cousins. I’ll ask Angie if you say no, but…”

“Yes!” Rebecca interrupts, grabbing Peggy into a hug.

They walk out to the others together, and all three of the women gasp at the dress.

“That’s it,” Georgia says.

“Get it right now,” Angie agrees.

“I think I will,” Peggy says.

 

* * *

 

They go to lunch after that, at a café. Peggy’s arranged for the dress to be delivered to the care and keeping of Rebecca, since she hasn’t told her landlady that she’s getting married yet.

Over their coffees, Peggy says, “I’ve asked Rebecca to be my maid of honor.”

“Really?” Georgia says. “Oh, Becca, it’s so much fun.”

Rebecca blushes.

“Helen,” Peggy says, “I’d like Angie and Georgia to be my other bridesmaids. I don’t want to offend you…”

“Oh, no, not at all,” Helen says. “I’ll be wrangling Toad. And my husband. And probably my mother.”

“Thank you so much,” Peggy says, a weight lifting off her shoulders.

“Now, tell me, who are the groomsmen?” Angie asks.

“James is the best man,” Peggy says. “I’m going to call my brother in a few days to arrange a few things, and ask him if he’ll be another. One of the members of Steve’s regiment. We’re going to let them duel that out. And another friend from the war. If he agrees.”

 

* * *

 

“What do you mean, no?” Peggy demands.

“I mean no, I’m not going to stand up for Steve,” Howard says firmly.

“Why not?” Peggy asks.

“Because that’s Bucky’s job,” Howard says.

“Of course it is. He’s the best man,” Peggy says.

“There’s more than one?” Howard asks, confused.

“There are other groomsmen,” Peggy says. “Have you ever been to a wedding?”

“I wasn’t exactly paying attention to the men,” Howard mutters.

Peggy rolls her eyes. “There are going to be four of you. James, my brother, and one of the Howlies.”

“Which one?” Howard asks with narrowed eyes.

 

* * *

 

Peggy is reading when a knock sounds at her door. She marks her page with a scrap of paper, and walks to the door. Mrs. Fry is standing outside, looking extremely cross.

“Ms. Carter,” she says shortly. “There is a… large group of men downstairs. They requested your presence.”

“A large group of men?” Peggy asks.

“I want them out of my lobby, Ms. Carter,” Mrs. Fry says. “Now.”

“Let me get my shoes,” Peggy sighs.

Under the landlady’s baleful gaze, Peggy puts on her quickest shoes, and then follows the woman down the stairs. The large group of men is not quite what she was expecting, and when one of them sweeps off his bowler hat and bows to her, she nearly kicks him in the head.

“Timothy Dugan, what _are_ you doing here?” she asks.

“We saw the newspapers,” he says.

Peggy shakes her head, then says, “Let’s go somewhere else. I wouldn’t want to _disturb_ my neighbors.”

She leads the Commandos out of the Griffith, and as soon as they get around the corner, she starts laughing. “You should have seen the look on Mrs. Fry’s face when she knocked on my door,” she says.

“I take it strange men aren’t accepted around her establishment?” Falsworth asks.

“No, indeed they aren’t,” Peggy says. “What brings you men all the way from Europe?”

“We saw the newspapers,” Morita says.

“So we stole a plane and came back!” Dugan says.

“No we didn’t,” Falsworth says, with a long-suffering sigh that only an English person could pull off. (Peggy knows, she’s used that sigh more than once herself.)

“Alright, so we got permission and took some leave,” Dugan says. “The stealing story is more fun.”

“I see,” Peggy says.

“Are the headlines true, then?” Jones asks.

“I believe that is a question you are going to have to ask Captain America yourself,” Peggy says.

“We were going to, but the SSR wouldn’t give us his address. They were more than happy to give out yours, though,” Falsworth says.

“Just _who_ was more than happy to give out my address?” Peggy asks, eyes narrowing.

“Thomas?” Dernier says.

“Thompson?” Peggy asks.

“Yes, that was it,” he replies.

Peggy rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “He’s a delight.”

“I don’t suppose _you_ know where Cap lives,” Dugan says.

“And if I do?” Peggy responds, hands on her hips.

“We came to dump him in the river!”

Since she really has nothing better to do, she leads them to the apartment. She doesn’t usually knock, but today’s a special occasion.

Bucky answers the door (shirtless), and his eyebrows knit in confusion. “You’re knocking now?”

“There’s someone looking for you,” Peggy says dryly, and steps past him to let the men into the apartment.

A few minutes later, they’re all sitting on the couch, armchairs, kitchen chairs, and radiator. The living room seems packed with seven grown men stuffed in, and Peggy is standing in the middle.

“It’s in July, you’re all invited, and we want one of you to be a groomsman,” she says succinctly.

“Who?” Falsworth asks.

“We’re going to leave that up to you,” Steve says.

“You mean you don’t want to have to pick,” Dugan says.

“Well…” Steve says.

The men start muttering to themselves, and a few crack knuckles when suddenly Dugan shrieks and jumps up off the radiator where he was sitting.

“Did you just burn your ass?” Bucky asks.

Dugan grabs the offending appendage with delicate hands.

“They don’t call him Dum Dum for nothing,” Morita says.

“In honor of the burned ass, I vote for Dugan,” Jones says. “All in favor say ‘Aye’.”

A chorus of agreement follows, and Dugan’s face is redder than his moustache.

“I can’t believe that’s how you decided,” Peggy says, shaking her head.

“We’re professionals, ma’am,” Falsworth says.

Unfortunately for him, the effect is ruined by Dugan jumping up from his attempted perch on the arm of the sofa.

“Professionals indeed,” Peggy says. 


	5. Fairy Godmother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dates and travel.

_Mid-April, 1946_

* * *

 

“Last week he took me on a picnic. A _picnic!_ ” Angie gushes. “Where does he get these ideas?”

Peggy chews thoughtfully on the piece of toast she’s holding, knowing full well where Angie’s boyfriend had gotten his ideas. By the coffee pot, two Tuesdays previously. From Peggy.

“Maybe you have a fairy godmother,” Jenny from 3J says.

“Or he’s secretly taping your conversations,” Donna from 2D says.

Peggy chokes on her toast.

“Just what _does_ Daniel do for a living?” Jenny asks.

“He’s never said, exactly,” Angie says. “But it’s some kind of office job.”

“Someone that evasive is never a good thing,” Gladys from 4E says. “He’s probably married.”

“I’m sure he’s not,” Peggy says.

“I had a guy once who told me after the third date,” Gladys says, then launches into a story about Dick and how he’d stick it in anything with legs. She doesn’t seem to notice when Angie and Peggy leave.

The Automat is on the way to the SSR office, so Peggy walks with Angie to work.

“You don’t think Gladys is right, do you?” Angie asks after a few blocks.

“No, of course not,” Peggy says. “He probably has a perfectly normal job.”

“I’m working myself up over nothing,” Angie says, half to herself.

A few blocks later, they part ways, and Peggy continues on alone to the SSR office. The ever-present pile of files is still there, and Peggy pours herself a cup of coffee before getting to work.

Several hours later, Sousa walks up to her desk, perhaps too casually.

“You want more girl advice?” Peggy asks.

He blushes. “She seemed to enjoy the picnic,” he says.

Peggy smirks. “You can’t come to me for ideas forever, you know,” she says.

“But you have such _good_ ones,” he replies.

“If she showed up right now and said ‘Take me on a date’, what would you do?” Peggy asks.

“Wonder how she found out where I work,” Sousa answers.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Peggy says, pushing the carriage return on her typewriter.

Sousa’s eyebrows screw up as he thinks. Finally, he says, “Go to see a movie, then out for ice cream.”

“That’s a wonderful idea. Try that next time,” Peggy says.

“You’re sure,” Sousa asks.

Peggy sighs heavily, then turns her chair to face him, arms crossed. “Daniel, you regularly handle some of the country’s most sensitive information. I’ve seen you sweet talk your way out of a man with a gun pointed at Thompson’s head. You can handle an adult relationship,” she says.

“I almost didn’t talk that guy down,” Sousa says. “But that’s because I wanted to hit Thompson in the head for his stupidity…”

“You’re going to be just fine,” she says. “Don’t do anything ridiculous, and she’ll probably like just about anything you do.”

“Hey, Sousa!” Thompson yells at that moment. “Get back to work!”

Sousa rolls his eyes, but says, “Duty calls,” and returns to his desk.

 

* * *

 

Peggy sits across the table from a man in a suit. He hasn’t told her his name.

“Ms. Carter,” he says. “I am sure that Chief Dooley has told you that we are interested in you for a highly classified SSR move.”

Peggy nods.

“At this time, we are in the final stages of this operation,” he continues. “I’m here today to ask you to come to DC with me and put the finishing touches on it.”

“Permanently?” Peggy asks.

“For the next month, at least,” he says. “But the final arrangements would probably take place at Camp Lehigh in New Jersey.”

“You want me to leave right now?” she asks.

“In the next few days,” he confirms.

Peggy pinches her nose for a minute. “I need to make some arrangements,” she says.

“I understand,” he says. “As of this moment, you are on leave from your job here at the SSR. You can contact me at this number when you are ready to leave.” He hands her a business card.

 

* * *

 

She tells Mrs. Fry first, and pays for the month she’s going to be gone. Mrs. Fry mumbles something, but Peggy chooses to ignore it. Next, she meets Angie outside of the Automat, and tells her over lunch.

“You’re going to set up a new switchboard network in Indiana,” Angie says.

“Yes,” Peggy replies.

“I thought you didn’t work for the phone company,” Angie says.

“I don’t,” Peggy replies.

Rebecca flat out tells Peggy she knows Peggy’s lying. Peggy says she doesn’t care what Rebecca thinks, as long as her mother thinks Peggy works for the phone company.

Bucky’s out of town on a job for Stark Industries, so that leaves only Steve to tell.

“A month isn’t that long,” she says.

“I know,” he sighs. “I just hate sleeping alone every night. Bucky’s not supposed to be back for another week at least.”

She hugs him.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” she says.

 

* * *

 

Touchdown in DC is smooth, and Peggy finds herself trundled off to a posh hotel.

“A car will be outside to get you at 8am,” the man who had talked to her in New York informed her. “Feel free to avail yourself of the restaurant on the premises. An account under your name has been opened at First National Bank down the street, and a stipend placed in it.”

Peggy says some niceties, then the man leaves. Peggy drops her bag on the huge bed, and lies down next to it. She considers a nap before dinner, but a sound at the door interrupts her. The knob turns like someone’s trying to get in. The door is locked, of course, so it doesn’t work. The scrabbling gets louder.

She walks over and opens it, and a couple tumbles through. The man looks up at the room, and then at Peggy’s feet.

“I have the wrong room, don’t I?” he asks.

“Indeed,” Peggy says.

He apologizes and helps his lady friend to her feet.

“Sorry,” he says, dusting himself off.

“Howard,” Peggy says. “How much have you had to drink today?”

“Three glasses of champagne… Peggy?” he says.

“Hello,” she says, more amused than anything else.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“It’s classified,” she says.

“You don’t know, do you?” he asks.

“Howie,” his date says.

“Just a moment,” he says absently. “They didn’t tell you?”

“Apparently not,” Peggy says.

“I will see you tomorrow, then,” he says with a gleam in his eye. “Now, Celia. I am _so_ sorry for that…”

She leans out the door to watch him go, and shakes her head. As she is closing the door, movement in the mirror around the corner catches her eye. A moment later, a whistling man comes around the corner, carrying a large bag over his shoulder. He walks right past Peggy, standing in her doorway. She blinks fast a few times, then turns to watch his retreating back, waiting.

He makes it four doors down before he freezes, stops whistling, and turns back.

“Peggy?” Bucky says.

“I really wish someone would tell me what the hell is going on here,” she says.

 


	6. What's Really Going On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Howard explains a thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look, a surprise visit from the sex fairy!

A knock on her door at 5:30 drags Peggy out of her bed.

She tosses Bucky’s arm back across his own chest, pulls a bathrobe on, and grudgingly goes to answer the knock.

Howard stands outside, wearing the same suit from the night before, but rumpled now.

“What the hell do you want, Howard?” she asks.

“To tell you why you’re here. I’m not supposed to, but I don’t want you to be blindsided. Can I come in?” he says.

“I’m not responsible for you seeing anything,” she says, but steps back to let him in.

“What do you mean by—oh,” he says.

The voices woke Bucky up, and he is glaring at them from the bed, where he is very, very naked.

“Make it quick, Howard,” he says, pulling a blanket over himself, and rolling over.

Howard turns to Peggy, and they sit at the table.

“The SSR is becoming its own organization, independent of the Army. I’m helping them work out the kinks,” Howard starts. “We’ve been working on this since we lost Erskine. They originally wanted to try to restart Project Rebirth, but their data was continually lost, and they couldn’t figure out why.”

“They want more super soldiers?” Peggy asks.

“They want the option. In case something happens with the Soviets,” Howard says.

“They’re not getting anything else from Steve,” Peggy says. “I remember the last time they asked him. There’s still a hole in the conference room wall.”

“They’re trying to engineer a new serum,” Howard says. “With the help of a cooperative prisoner.”

“They’re trying to _what_?” Peggy hisses. “Do they remember what happened when Hydra tried to do that?”

“They’ve got Zola working for them,” Howard says _sotto voce_.

Unfortunately, it’s a small room, and Bucky has enhanced hearing. He sits up on the bed with a hiss.

“You didn’t tell me,” he says accusingly.

“I only found out two days ago,” Howard replies. “I would have told you if I had known.”

Bucky growls under his breath, and turns his back, reaching for his pants.

“How far along are they?” Peggy asks.

“I don’t know. Like I said, their data keeps going conveniently missing,” Howard says.

Peggy raises her eyebrow at him.

“My butler is a very efficient man,” Howard says noncommittally.

“What do they want with me?” Peggy says.

“They want you to run the new SSR,” Howard says. “With me.”

Peggy blinks.

“Why?” she asks finally.

“Because you’re competent, because you’ve worked with these people before, and because I twisted their arms,” Howard says.

“I believe the words were ‘Unless you get Peggy Carter, I’m out’,” Bucky puts in helpfully.

“You knew?” Peggy asks.

“I…yes,” Bucky says.

“They swore us both to secrecy,” Howard says.

“I understand, but that doesn’t mean I like it,” Peggy says.

Howard looks at the clock and swears. “I have to go. But I’ll see you later,” he says.

After he leaves, Peggy puts her head down on the table.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says.

“It’s not your fault,” Peggy says. She picks her head up and tosses a hand through her hair. “It’s bureaucracy at its finest.”

He stands, brushes the hair out of her face, and kisses her forehead.

“It’s still a lot to be tossed on you all at once,” he says.

“You can say that again,” she mutters.

“Come back to bed,” he says.

“I’m not going to be able to go back to sleep,” she says.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” he says.

He loses his pants back onto the floor, and her bathrobe is discarded over the chair. The sheets are cool against her back as she pulls him down on top of her. He braces his weight on either side of her chest, and she wraps her legs around his waist. He resumes kissing her, and the bed sways gently with the motion. They’re both nearly silent as she reaches over to pull a blanket up over his back.

Bucky’s mouth travels down her neck, nibbling gently, not hard enough to leave a mark. She reaches down between them, and shifts him. He slides in excruciatingly slowly, and when their hips are flush, he levers himself up to look at her.

“I wonder if we could pull strings to get Steve here,” he says.

She squeaks as he moves, then asks, “Aren’t you going home in a few days?”

He rolls his eyes, and his hips. “Not if everything goes according to plan.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she says, and then he covers her mouth with his.

The bed starts to make dangerous noises as their movements become more erratic. Her back bows up, and she bites down on his shoulder to keep from screaming. The two sensations combined push him over, and he falls on top of her.

A few moments later, she starts poking him in the ear.

“G’off,” she says.

“I just did,” he says.

She smacks him on the back of the head for that.

 

* * *

 

The meetings seem to drag on forever. She’s been sitting in the same stuffy conference room for three days, and they’re only just getting around to telling her what Howard had told her in five minutes.

“We would like you to direct this organization,” Mr. Kelvin says finally.

“Why me?” she asks.

“We’ve seen your record, Agent Carter. It is very impressive, and exactly what we’re looking for in a Director,” he replies.

“What, exactly, does this new organization do?” she asks.

“It’s in charge of most international intelligence,” he says. “Including the powers rising in Eastern Europe and Asia.”

“Soviet baby sitters,” she says.

“Essentially.”

“And the SSR?”

“Will be incorporated eventually. At first, we’ll have you pick a few agents to come over and lay a foundation. We are also going to put this organization directly in charge of the Captain America program.”

“You are aware I’m marrying him in a few months,” Peggy says.

“Mr. Stark insisted that Captain America be one of the first duties of the new organization,” Mr. Kelvin says.

“Of course he did,” Peggy mutters under her breath. Louder, she says “All right. I’ll do it. When do I start?”

The men all blink. “You don’t need time to think about it?” one asks.

“Mr. Jones,” Peggy says. “I don’t need to think about it at all.”

“Very well,” Mr. Kelvin says. “We have been setting up an underground bunker at Camp Lehigh. I assume you are familiar with the facility.”

“I am,” Peggy confirms.

“We have a few more arrangements to make here, then we will go to New Jersey. It will probably be another week here,” he says.

“Let’s get started,” Peggy says.

 

* * *

 

She spends the rest of the afternoon with Howard and Bucky, going over lists of employees, trying to figure out exactly who they want working for them.

“Obviously your boyfriend’s on the list,” Howard says, writing ‘James Barnes’ at the top of a piece of paper.

“Are you all right with that?” Peggy asks, looking up at Bucky. “I know you got out of the SSR for a reason.”

“I got out of the Army for a reason,” Bucky says. “But if I’m working with you two and Steve, I’ll be fine. Just don’t expect me to answer to ‘sergeant’.”

“Agent Barnes,” Peggy says with a nod.

“Of course, Director,” he says.

“You two do that in bed, don’t you?” Howard asks, looking faintly green.

Peggy snorts. “There was one time Steve asked us to call him ‘Captain’.”

“So who else?!” Howard says, desperately changing the subject.

“You’re the one who asked,” Bucky says.

“Sousa,” Peggy says when Howard’s color returns to normal.

“Anyone else from your office?” Howard asks.

“Hollis, if we absolutely need to. But under no circumstances do you requisition Thompson,” Peggy says.

“Strong feelings on that one?” Howard asks.

“He felt free giving my home address out,” she says.

“To who?” Bucky asks immediately.

“The Howlies,” Peggy says. “But still.”

“No Thompson,” Howard says, writing it on a piece of paper, underlining emphatically.

Peggy hmphs.

“Speaking of them, technically, they’re considered part of the Captain America program,” Howard says. “We’re going to still have to liaise with the Army on that front, unfortunately.”

“I do not volunteer,” Bucky says.

“I know, dear,” Peggy says. “I’ll do it. It was fine during the war, and I happen to like them.”

“Did you ever decide which one’s going to be a groomsman?” Howard asks.

Peggy and Bucky burst into laughter.

“Dugan,” she says finally. “Because he burned his arse on the radiator.”

“Of course he did,” Howard says.

“I trust you to pick some of your own people, but I’m going to need to go around to the other SSR offices to interview people,” she says.

“And that could take a while,” Bucky elaborates.

“So you’d rather do it after the wedding?” Howard asks.

“I would,” Peggy says.

“Hmm…” Howard says. “How does this work for you: We get each office to send one or two of their best agents, and they stay until September as a trial. If we like any of them, they can stay. Then, we have a Captain America press tour, and we can handpick the other people.”

“Steve’s going to love that,” Bucky says.

“That sounds like a good plan, Howard,” Peggy says.

“Thank you,” Howard says, perhaps too pleased with himself.

“Have you decided on a name for this new organization?” Peggy asks.

“The Strategic Division of Logistics, Homeland Intervention, and Enforcement,” Howard says.

“That’s a terrible name,” Peggy says. “SDOLHIE.”

“I know,” Howard says. “We’re taking suggestions.”

Peggy thinks for a moment, then scribbles on a piece of paper. “Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division,” she says finally. “SHIELD.”


	7. Time Flies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drama. So much drama.

“You’re up bright and early,” Howard says to Peggy over breakfast.

“I slept well,” Peggy says.

“Apparently,” Howard says.

“What does that mean?” Peggy asks.

Howard takes a large bite of his croissant and points to Peggy’s shoulder. “You’re starting to resemble a dropped peach.”

 

* * *

 

It’s nearly 10pm and Peggy checks the clock again. Bucky had said he would be back by eight.

There’s a knock at the door, and Peggy hurries to get it. The man standing outside is not the boyfriend she expected, but she lets him in anyway.

“Long trip?” she asks as Steve puts his bag on the bed.

“It’s Jersey,” he says.

“Ah,” Peggy says.

“How is your…project going?” Steve asks.

“I’d fill you in on the details, but Stark would probably kill me for it, so you’re just going to have to wait until tomorrow,” Peggy says.

Steve starts toward the table, where Peggy had been reading and drinking a cup of tea. He picks up her book and raises his eyebrow at the title.

“Romance pulp novels?” he asks.

Peggy shrugs, “They’re fun and quick, and the girl always gets her guy.”

“But _Kilts and Daggers_? Really?” he asks.

“I have a thing for Scotsmen,” Peggy says, sniffing.

“I should take offense to that,” Steve says. “My father was first generation Irish-American and my mother was born in Belfast.”

“But you’re not taking offense to it?” Peggy asks.

Steve shrugs, “As long as you don’t try to get me into a kilt.”

“You do have fantastic legs,” Peggy says thoughtfully.

Steve takes the other chair, and starts to sit down when he notices the pants draped over the back. He picks them up by the waistband.

“Been having guests over?” he asks.

“Just one,” Peggy says, finishing her tea.

“And he leaves his pants lying about the room?” Steve asks.

“He was in a hurry this morning,” Peggy says.

Steve narrows his eyes at her. “Not too much of a hurry, apparently,” he says.

“What?” Peggy asks.

“Your makeup is wearing off,” he says, pressing a finger to the bite mark on her neck.

She turns and looks in the mirror, then rolls her eyes. “The package said it was supposed to last eighteen hours. It’s been six.”

He grabs her by the hips and pulls her into his chest, taking a deep sniff of her hair. The action makes her gasp in pain, and he steps back quickly.

“What?” he asks, looking more worried than suspicious for a second.

Peggy yanks up the hem of her nightdress and shows him the handprint-shaped bruise on her right hip. It’s more yellow than it was this morning, but still shows up prominently against her skin. “Some of us bruise like peaches.”

Steve fits his hand to the shape of the bruise. It’s bigger than the outline in Peggy’s skin, but the position makes it obvious how the mark got there.

“Peaches,” he says.

Her eyebrow twitches. “You ever dropped a peach?”

“I can’t say as I have,” he says.

“They turn brown almost immediately,” she says.

“Don’t drop them, then,” he says.

“One never intends to drop their peach,” Peggy says. “But sometimes when one is… distracted, the peach gets dropped.”

“Maybe one needs a steadier hand,” Steve says.

“Even the most technologically advanced hand current science can offer will drop a peach occasionally,” Peggy says.

“It’s perfectly articulated,” a voice says from the door.

“You just don’t know how hard to press,” Peggy shoots back.

“You weren’t complaining at the time,” Bucky says, shutting it behind him.

Peggy makes a face at him over her shoulder. “Satisfied?” she asks Steve.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“Good,” she replies.

“Sorry about what?” Bucky asks.

“I saw your pants on the chair and… jumped to conclusions,” Steve says, staring at the door lintel over Bucky’s head.

“Ah,” Bucky says. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”

Steve scrubs a hand under his nose, and shrugs. “You remember Loretta. And Irma.”

“Un _fortunately_ ,” Bucky says.

“Someone care to elaborate?” Peggy says after a long silence.

“Loretta was Helen’s best friend in high school,” Bucky says. “Helen set her and Steve up on a date. She showed up an hour late, her hair messed up, smelling like someone else’s aftershave. And then had the gall to flirt with the bartender. Then the guy she was _with_ before showed up and called Steve out. Helen stopped talking to her after that for some reason. Irma…”

“Irma wanted into your pants and decided the best way to do that was to go out with me, then spend all her time at the apartment in various states of undress,” Steve says. “Even when I wasn’t there.”

“Especially when you weren’t there,” Bucky says.

“She finally left when I came home to find her on our couch, necking with Donnie Merrick,” Steve says.

“The same Donnie Merrick…” Peggy says.

“Who took issue with Georgia’s choice of partner?” Bucky says. “The same one.”

“Well he’s a prick,” Peggy says.

“Amen to that,” Bucky mutters.

“You should be more careful with leaving men’s clothing lying around the hotel room of a single woman,” Steve says.

“Eh,” Peggy says dismissively. “The only other person who would come in here is Howard, and he already knows. The cleaning staff at this hotel is paid well to not notice things like that.”

“Howard knows?” Steve asks.

“You didn’t know?” Bucky says.

“Since when?” Steve says.

“Giant bag, you stuffed in a closet, a few nutty Germans,” Bucky says. “He got a real eyeful the other morning.”

“Of what?” Steve asks, voice implying he doesn’t really want to know the answer.

Bucky drags a hand down his body in answer.

“I’m sure he was thrilled with that,” Steve says.

“Well… he was rather… preoccupied…” Peggy says. “There are some things going on that I really can’t tell you yet. Big things.”

“Things I’m not going to like?” Steve asks.

“Some of it you aren’t,” Bucky says. “But I think you’ll enjoy most of it.”

“Especially that one bit with the travelling,” Peggy says.

“The one later this summer?” Bucky asks.

“Yes,” Peggy says.

“Why do I get the impression I’m _not_ going to enjoy ‘that one bit with the travelling’?” Steve asks.

 

* * *

 

“He was supposed to be here an hour ago,” Peggy says, checking her watch again.

“I’ll go ask Wanda again,” Bucky says.

Before he can leave, Steve comes into the room, looking traumatized.

“What happened?” Peggy asks, pulling out a chair for him.

“Another press tour?” he says.

“Oh hell,” Peggy says. “You weren’t supposed to find out about that yet.”

“How did they get a hold of you?” Bucky asks.

“Howard was showing me some shiny thing, and this woman just walked up, grabbed me, and dragged me into what looked like an interrogation room. She said her name was Trina and she was SHIELD’s PR director,” Steve says. “I don’t even know what SHIELD _is_.”

Peggy sits down at her desk. “This is SHIELD,” she says, gesturing to the bunker walls around them.

“What does it do?” Steve asks.

“We’re taking over for the SSR,” Peggy says. “More permanently. And primarily, we’re an intelligence agency.”

“We,” Steve says, making it a statement.

“Howard and I are co-directors. James is working directly under me, and we’re bringing in some SSR agents to help make the transition smoother,” Peggy says.

“This is your big project,” Steve says.

“It is,” Peggy confirms. “There are still many things up in the air, but right now we have a few main goals for the immediate future.”

“We do?” Bucky asks.

“We do,” Peggy says. “All the prisoners that the SSR took during the war will soon be transferred to SHIELD custody. We are going to figure out what to do with them. That includes Zola.” Both men tighten at the name. “I know. If it were up to me, he’d be on the fastest plane to the nearest volcano. But it’s not, so we are going to have to work with him.”

“The other goals?” Steve asks.

“Organizing the files surrounding Project Rebirth,” Peggy says. “In a decision that was _not mine_ , scientists have been working on trying to create more serum.”

“Because that worked out so well the last time they made a super soldier,” Steve mutters.

“Zola’s ‘research’ was their starting point,” Bucky says. “And it’s not…”

“Starting from scratch,” Peggy finishes for him.

“It isn’t?” Steve asks.

Peggy and Bucky exchange a look. She knows he hasn’t wanted to talk with Steve about Azzano. But that ship may have just sailed.

He takes a deep breath, “No, Stevie,” Bucky says, sitting on Peggy’s desk. “Did you ever read the reports that came out of the prison camp at Azzano?”

“Briefly,” Steve says. “I was under the impression that no one survived those experiments.”

“One,” Bucky says. “An American soldier.”

Steve stares at Bucky for a moment, not comprehending. “Who?” he asks.

Bucky gives a rough laugh. “It’s that hard to see, Stevie?” he asks.

“You,” Steve breathes.

Peggy rises from her chair and walks around the two of them, softly shutting the door to her office and pulling the blinds.

“There’s a reason I survived falling from that train,” Bucky says.

“God, Buck,” Steve says. “If I had known I…”

“What? Would have sent me home? They wanted me to go,” Bucky says. “But I said no, I’m following Steve Rogers into the jaws of death. Turns out the jaws of death can’t keep hold of either of us.”

“Doesn’t stop them from trying,” Steve says.

“You do help them along,” Peggy says.

“Me?” Steve asks.

“Do I need to name examples?” she asks.

“Yes, please,” Bucky says.

“Anti-aircraft fire, motorcycle into a Hydra base,” Peggy says. “Oh, and that grenade at Basic.”

“What grenade?” Bucky asks, eyes narrowing.

“Oh, don’t tell him that story,” Steve says.

Ignoring him, Peggy says to Bucky, “Phillips’ final test for the prospects for Project Rebirth was to toss a dummy grenade onto the training field. He failed to mention it was a dummy. Steve jumped on it.”

“You did _what_?” Bucky asks.

“I thought it was a live grenade!” Steve says. “It could have killed a lot of people!”

“It could have killed you, you dumb shit,” Bucky says.

“Better me than fifty other people in the vicinity,” Steve says.

Bucky just shakes his head.

“That was what decided Phillips that Erskine was right about his choice of soldier,” Peggy says helpfully.

“Of course it was,” Bucky says. “Any other bombshells to drop today?”

“One bombshell per person, per day,” Peggy says.

“Is there anything else I should know about SHIELD?” Steve asks.

“Oh, just that Howard got control of the Captain America program turned over to us, and that my name is at the top of the chain of command,” Peggy says.

“What does that mean?” Steve asks, hesitating.

“You and your command, one Howling Commandos, work for me now,” Peggy says.

“Oh thank God,” Steve says.

“Really?” Peggy asks.

“The guy at the SSR was a… jerk,” he says. “Now what does that mean for this press tour?”

“I need to interview SSR agents from offices around the country,” Peggy says. “So Captain America is going on a press tour. And he’s just going to happen to visit all the cities with SSR offices in them.”

“I’m not wearing tights again,” Steve growls.

“Yes, dear,” Peggy says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, Peggy does Europe. (Well, England, Scotland, and Ireland.)


	8. Family New and Old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy tells extended family about the wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finals and end of semester papers kicked my ass. But I'm almost free.

Early May 1946

 

* * *

 

The mission in London takes less time than she had predicted. A week less, as a matter of fact. Well, that’s what it will say in her official report. She has some things to attend to at home, and a visit to make in Ireland.

That’s how Peggy finds herself on the doorstep of her childhood home, hand hovering over the knocker. She lifts it and lets it fall twice. A few moments pass, and the door opens. A young girl stands in front of it, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Mummy says we’re not supposed to have guests before breakfast,” she says.

“Will you ask your mum if family counts as guests?” Peggy asks.

“She’s busy,” the little girl says. “I’ll ask if you can come in. What’s your name?”

“Peggy,” Peggy says.

“I’m Eleanor Phillipa Alice Carter,” she says. “Do you have a proper name?”

“Margaret Eva Carter,” Peggy says. “Is your father home?”

“He’s still eating breakfast,” Eleanor says. “You’ll have to come back later.”

“Ellie,” a voice calls from inside. “Who are you talking to?”

“There’s someone at the door,” Eleanor answers.

“Who is it?” the voice asks.

“She says her name is Peggy,” Eleanor says.

The sound of running feet turn into a woman about Peggy’s age. Her hair is still half in rollers.

“Hi, Peggy, I’m sorry,” she says. “Please, come inside. Eleanor, what have I told you about answering the door?”

“I’m not supposed to do it unless you or Daddy are with me,” Eleanor says.

“Exactly,” her mother says. “Now go finish your breakfast.”

“I’m sorry,” Peggy says. “I would have phoned…”

“It’s all right,” the other woman says. “We didn’t have anything planned for the day.”

“It’s nice to see you again, Charlotte,” Peggy says.

“You too, Peggy,” Charlotte says, holding her arms out. Peggy embraces her. “I’m sorry about my hair.”

“After what happened at your wedding?” Peggy says. “Half rollers is nothing compared to fixing garters with your dress already on.”

Charlotte’s lips quirk, “And I had almost forgotten that.”

“Peg?” a man’s voice says from the doorway to the kitchen.

“Hello, Harry,” Peggy says, turning to greet her brother.

“It’s about damn time you came and visited,” Harrison says.

“I’ve been busy with work,” Peggy says.

“Ah, the age-old excuse,” Harrison says.

Peggy sticks out her tongue at him. Some things haven’t changed since she was eight.

 

“When we spoke last year you said you were…” Harrison says, but doesn’t finish.

“Harry, you’re going to have to finish at least _one_ of your sentences,” Peggy says. “That’s the third in a row.”

“Wasn’t there a Yank you were… seeing?” Harrison asks, wincing at the word.

“Harrison, sex is not terrifying,” Charlotte says.

“It is when my baby sister’s having it,” Harrison answers.

“I’m only six years younger than you, Harry,” Peggy says. “And yes, his name is Steve.”

“Meet him in the war?” Harrison asks.

“I did. He was part of a project I was working on,” Peggy says.

“That supersoldier thing?” Harrison asks.

“That’s classified,” Peggy says.

“That’s a yes, Peg. He big and blond and the perfect American specimen?” Harrison says.

“And if he is?” Peggy asks archly.

“Why’s it always the blonds?” Harrison asks to no one in particular.

“My Lord, Harrison,” Charlotte says. “You can’t just ask someone why their boyfriend is blond.”

“All her boyfriends have been blond!” Harrison says.

“Nolan Marcus wasn’t,” Peggy says.

“He turned out to like… uh,” Harrison says.

“Like what?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Harrison says.

“He’s become a _confirmed bachelor_ ,” Charlotte says, as delicately as possible.

“Has he now?” Peggy asks with interest.

“Surely that’s not what we want to talk about,” Harrison says.

Peggy _does_ want to talk about that, but is interrupted by a shriek from the hall, followed by the sound of bawling. They all jump to their feet and rush to the foot of the stairs. Eleanor is near the door, holding her wrist while a young woman bends over her.

Charlotte rushes up the stairs and kneels beside her daughter.

“What happened?” she asks the other woman.

“I think she fell, but I don’t know how,” the woman says, surprising Peggy with an American accent.

“Ellie, love, what happened?” Charlotte asks.

“I tripped on the umbrella stand,” Eleanor says.

“I’ve told you to get rid of that thing,” Charlotte says to her husband.

“It was my mother’s!” Harrison says.

“And I did exactly what Eleanor just did when I was her age,” Peggy says.

“Is that why it ended up in the attic?” Harrison asks.

“That and the fact that it looks like an elephant foot,” Peggy says.

“It does?” Harrison says, picking up the offending object.

“I think it’s time for it to return to the attic, dear,” Charlotte says.

“I’ll… do that…” Harrison says, and nearly bolts up the stairs.

Charlotte picks up Eleanor. “Do you think it’s broken?” she asks her daughter.

“I dunno,” Eleanor sniffs.

Peggy gently takes her hand and rotates the joint. It doesn’t seem to be broken or sprained. “I don’t think we’re going to need to amputate,” she says.

“It’s okay?” Eleanor asks, wide brown eyes staring at Peggy.

“Put a little ice on it. And a biscuit couldn’t hurt,” Peggy says with a smile.

“I want a biscuit!” Eleanor pronounces, tears forgotten.

“Then a biscuit you shall have!” Charlotte says, and leads a procession to the kitchen.

A few minutes later, Eleanor is happily chewing on a chocolate chip cookie, sitting at the table.

“Oh, dear me,” Charlotte says. “I’m sorry, Peggy. This is Bess, Eleanor’s nanny.”

Peggy proffers her hand. “Peggy,” she says.

“You’re Harrison’s sister?” Bess asks, shaking her hand.

“The same,” Peggy says.

“You’re living in New York?”

“Brooklyn.”

“I’m from Brooklyn!” Bess says.

“You are?” Peggy asks.

Bess then launches into a description of her childhood home, a location about ten blocks from the neighborhood that Steve and Bucky’s apartment is in. The discussion from there turns to talk of wedding plans. Harrison comes in halfway through a thorough description of Peggy’s dress, and is immediately skewered to a chair.

“Is there any possibility of you coming to the wedding?” Peggy asks.

“Absolutely,” Harrison says. “I just phoned Aunt Maude and Mother and told them that you were here, and that you’re getting married,” he says.

Peggy closes her eyes. “I was hoping to avoid Aunt Maude,” she says.

“Why?” Harrison asks.

“Harry, do you remember our wedding?” Charlotte asks.

“What about it?”

“She insulted every decision I had made, right down to the ruffles on my dress. She made the waiters cry. And there was that thing with Nancy Alderman,” Charlotte says.

“Is that why Nancy hasn’t talked to us in six years?” Harrison asks.

“Yes, dear,” Charlotte says.

“She insulted the _flowers_ ,” Peggy says.

“I had forgotten that,” Charlotte says with a sigh. “And they were the same ones that were at my parents’ wedding.”

“When exactly _is_ the wedding?” Harrison asks.

“July 17,” Peggy says. “And we are short one groomsman…”

“You want me?” Harrison asks.

“Yes,” Peggy says.

“Who are the others?” Harrison asks. “I’ll do it, I’m just curious.”

“Steve’s best friend James is his best man, a member of his regiment, and a friend from work,” Peggy says.

“And your bridesmaids?” Charlotte asks.

“James’ youngest sister Rebecca is my maid of honor, my friend Angie, and another of James’ sisters,” Peggy says.

“Are you close to James’ family?” Charlotte asks.

“He and Steve are practically brothers,” Peggy says with a grin. “And when he introduces himself, it’ll be as Bucky.”

 

* * *

 

Two days later, all the plans for Harrison, Charlotte, and Eleanor to come to New York are finalized. On the phone with Steve and Bucky that night, she mentions that she has one more thing to do.

She doesn’t tell them it’s in Ireland.

 

* * *

 

She checks the address on the paper in her hand for a third time, then tentatively knocks on the door. A woman opens it after a moment, a wealth of dark curls surrounding a face with high cheekbones and dark eyes.

“Can I help ye?” she asks.

“I’m looking for the family of Sarah Rogers,” Peggy says. “Her maiden name was McKenna.”

The woman narrows her eyes, “Why ye lookin’?”

“I’m engaged to her son,” Peggy says.

“Come inside,” the woman says. “I’ll be right back.”

Peggy steps inside, and the woman bustles off into parts unknown. She returns a few seconds later, trailed by a short woman with red hair.

“Tell her what ye just told me,” the dark haired woman says.

“I’m looking for the family of Sarah Rogers née McKenna,” Peggy says. “Because I’m marrying her son.”

“Sarah died in 1937, in Brooklyn,” the red haired woman says to Peggy.

“I know,” Peggy says. “I would have liked to meet her.”

“The last letter I got from her was dated May 1937,” she says. “Do you know…”

“June 7,” Peggy says. “Tuberculosis.”

“And it didn’t get Steven?” she asks. “I thought that boy was so frail the wind could blow him over.”

“It didn’t, although he was skinny when I met him,” Peggy says. “He’s had a… rather healthy turn over the past few years.”

“I always thought he died with her. I never got another letter from him,” she says. “Just one from the hospital.”

“I’m not sure Steve actually knows you exist,” Peggy says. “I was looking through old family papers, and I happened to be in England visiting my own family… I thought I’d see if you were interested in having contact with him. A sort of wedding present from me.”

“That’s very… thoughtful,” she says. “Oh, I’m so sorry. My name’s Janet McKenna. Call me Jenny.”

“Margaret Carter,” Peggy says, offering a hand. “Peggy.”

“Sarah was my oldest sister,” Jenny says. “She left for America when she was fifteen, in 1914. Something about trying to avoid the war. I was barely walking when she left. Our mother near had a fit when Sarah wrote that she was getting married not a year after she landed. Joey Rogers was, according to her, the second coming of Jesus. He died in January 1918, and she found out she was pregnant the same day they told her. A boy, Steven. She wrote to me the day he was born. Said he was the smallest thing she’d ever seen, and the doctors didn’t expect him to make it out of childhood.”

“I can believe that,” Peggy says.

“What happened to her after she passed?” Jenny asks.

“She was buried beside Joseph in a little cemetery in Brooklyn,” Peggy says. “Steve took me there a few months ago. It’s lovely. Right next to his parish church.”

“He’s Catholic?” Jenny asks.

“He is,” Peggy says.

“Tell me about him,” Jenny requests.

And Peggy spends the next three hours talking about Steve and by extension, Bucky and his family. She leaves off the part about being Captain America.

They’re drinking tea, and Jenny’s telling her one of the few memories of Sarah she has when an old woman comes into the kitchen.

“Janet,” she says, then something in Irish that Peggy doesn’t understand, but from the tone isn’t flattering.

Jenny answers, and Peggy hears her name, Steve’s and Sarah’s.

“What’s an English chit doing marrying a nice Irish boy from America?” the woman says, eyes glinting in the light of the kitchen lamp. They’re faded from the color they had been in the woman’s youth, but that particular shade of blue is unmistakable. Now that she looks, Jenny’s eyes are the same color as Steve’s. It’s uncanny really.

“He’s the most honest man I’ve ever met,” Peggy says.

“That’s an odd trait to pick,” the old woman says.

“Would you like me to speak of honor, duty, and lying down for his country?” Peggy says. “Because he’s all of those, too.”

“Sarah would’ve liked you, chit,” she says. “My eldest always did like the feisty ones.”

“You’re Sarah’s mother?” Peggy asks.

“Johanna McKenna,” she says. “Nice to meet you, Margaret.”

“And you, Mrs. McKenna,” Peggy says.

“When is the wedding?” Jenny asks.

“July 17,” Peggy says.

“I’m afraid…” Jenny says.

“Oh, no, I’m not expecting you to pick up and come on such short notice,” Peggy says.

Jenny sighs heavily, “Thank the Lord.”

“Our honeymoon’s in Scotland,” Peggy says. “I thought we might come by, and I could introduce Steve, if you were interested in meeting him.”

“Tell me at least two weeks in advance, and we’ll be here,” Jenny says.

“He’s going to like you,” Peggy says, and chews on a cookie.


	9. Catching Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy comes home... and there's wedding planning.

Late May, 1946

 

* * *

 

The plane lands a few minutes before midnight. Peggy hoists her bag onto her shoulder and trudges up the stairs of the building. She doesn’t know why she even bothers with the room in the Griffith, for all intents and purposes, she already lives here. She doesn’t even knock.

Sliding the key into the lock, she hears incriminating noises coming from the general direction of the bedroom, so she slides in as quietly as possible. Her bag lands on the floor, she’ll pick it up in the morning. Her shoes land somewhere in the middle of the kitchen, suit jacket on the armchair. Her skirt makes it as far as the couch, and her blouse lands on top of it.

She’s level with the bedroom door, wearing not much more than stockings and her slip when fabric hits her in the chest. She catches it automatically, then holds it up to see what it is. A very distinctive shade of blue catches her eye. Peggy shakes it out and realizes she’s holding the top of Steve’s USO tour costume.

She looks into the bedroom and completely loses it. Gales of laughter catch her in the stomach and she practically keels over with the force of it.

“Steve, what?” Bucky says, then the pair of them come to the door and Steve has to catch Peggy as she falls into him.

“You’re home early,” he comments dryly.

“How did you…” Peggy starts, before she starts coughing on the laughter.

“Howard’s easy to distract with a pretty girl,” Bucky says. “Marion from accounting neglected to mention her husband.”

“He’s going to kill you two,” Peggy says, finally composing herself.

“Totally worth it,” Bucky says.

“How long have you two been planning this?” Peggy asks.

“Since a little bar in London,” Steve says.

“Night of the Red Dress,” Bucky comments.

“The night you made an ass of yourself,” Peggy says dryly.

“I thought we had agreed to forget that,” Bucky says, cheeks coloring.

“Darling, you’re never living that down,” Peggy says.

“I was drunk!”

“Of course you were,” Peggy says, ruffling his hair, disheveling it even more.

“How was England?” Steve asks, changing the subject abruptly.

“That’s not what you want to talk about right now, now is it?” Peggy asks.

“No, no it isn’t,” Bucky says, bending down. He snatches Peggy’s legs just at her knees and hoists her up.

She cackles, grabs the back of his hair and kisses him until Steve inserts a hand and tugs her head toward his. She leans back, and Bucky’s grip starts to slip. Steve catches her, and the two of them each carry half of her into the bedroom.

 

* * *

 

“We’re going to have to keep that costume,” Bucky says.

Steve grunts, lying facedown in the pillow.

“So how _was_ England?” Bucky asks.

“Same as usual. Grey, rainy, full of pretentious people. Harrison told Aunt Maude, and now she’s coming to the wedding,” Peggy says.

“You make it sound so delightful,” Steve says, voice still slightly muffled.

“Maude’s a crazy old bitch,” Peggy says.

“She’s your aunt...” Bucky says.

“She’s my mother’s aunt,” Peggy corrects. “And you’ll see why I don’t like her soon enough.”

“You make _England_ sound so delightful,” Steve says, flipping onto his back.

“You could do the same for Brooklyn,” Peggy says.

“Dirty, noisy, full of obnoxious people,” Bucky says.

“But that’s not what you really think of Brooklyn,” Steve says.

“Of course not,” Bucky replies.

Peggy rolls out of the bed, pulling one of their shirts on, and goes to stand by the window, the lamplight casting city shadows on her face in the dark room.

“It’s silver and green,” she says finally. “Sometimes, when you’re out in the country, the fog will roll in in the night, and you wake up like you’re in a cloud, the only person alive in the world. It’s easy to get lost in the forest, then, early mornings. The fey is closer then, as if you could round a corner and Puck would be standing in the clearing. London herself is steel and stone, wet with the rain of a thousand years, but _strong_. The river fog’s not like the country fog. It’s sinister, snaking through the alleys, whispering dangerous secrets. But the city protects her inhabitants, the fog goes away with the coming of day, and most people are never the wiser. But... it's not home anymore."

 

* * *

 

Early June 1946

 

* * *

 

She ducks beneath a kick, aiming her own at the man’s knee. He goes down just as another grabs her by the wrist. This is the fifth one in a row, and they don’t seem to take the hint that she’s not here to beat them up, she’s here to buy some damn wedding flowers. One of them had recognized her as an SSR agent, and the other six had jumped her. The poor clerk was currently hiding behind the desk, on the phone with the police.

They come rolling up, sirens screaming, just as Peggy drops the last goon onto the curb.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” an officer asks her.

“I’m fine,” Peggy says.

“Why did they attack you?” he asks, genuinely concerned.

“Can I speak to your commanding officer?” Peggy asks. “Honestly, it’s classified.”

“Of course, ma’am,” the man says.

Peggy explains her situation to his CO, who looks at her credentials with some amount of skepticism, but given that she’s unharmed and they have been trying to bring this particular goon squad down for months, he gives her a pass.

She reenters the store, where the clerk is being hugged by an older woman, dabbing at the girl’s eyes with a handkerchief.

“I understand you sell flowers?” Peggy asks.

 

* * *

 

A few days after the flower shop, Steve and Peggy go to his parish church. Father Julius is waiting for them in his office, and Peggy thinks to herself that she’s never seen someone with a stick quite so far up his arse.

“Steven,” the priest says after a moment of uncomfortable silence. “I am glad to see you have chosen to come to your home church to marry.”

“I wouldn’t dream of doing anything else, sir,” Steve says, the cocky 27 year old gone and replaced by a good little Catholic boy. Peggy stifles a rude snort.

“Would you care to introduce me to your fiancée?” Fr. Julius asks.

“Father, this is Peggy,” Steve says. Peggy offers her hand over the desk.

“Margaret,” Fr. Julius says. “I understand that you are British.”

“I am,” Peggy says.

“And you are a member of the Church of England?” he says.

“Yes,” Peggy says. “And as of right now, I do not have any desire to convert.”

“Hmph,” Fr. Julius sighs.

He proceeds to give them a lecture on the sanctity of marriage, God, children, and adultery. He spends almost half the lecture on the last subject, staring Peggy directly in the face the entire time.

They go back to the Griffith after that, having secured Fr. Julius’ priestly services for July 17.

Peggy knocks on Mrs. Fry’s door, smacking Steve’s hand away from her back.

“Ms. Carter,” Mrs. Fry says, evaluating the pair of them with narrowed eyes.

“What is your policy on tendering dates for move-out?” Peggy asks quickly.

“Six weeks’ notice at least,” Mrs. Fry says. “Unless there are… extreme circumstances.” Her eyes flick obviously to Peggy’s midsection.

“I’m getting married July 17,” Peggy says. “And I’ll be moving out a few days _after_ that.”

“Hmph,” Mrs. Fry sighs.

 

* * *

 

Peggy’s considering a nap on her desk.

“Why didn’t we just elope?” she groans into the wood.

“What?” a voice at the door asks.

“Planning a wedding is more trouble than its worth,” Peggy says, not looking up.

“I’m sure it’s going to be all worth it,” Sousa says.

“Just don’t come complaining to me when your girlfriend starts sobbing because they don’t have coral roses,” Peggy says.

“Did you…”

“No, but the flower store should take stocks out in facial tissues,” Peggy says. “How is it going with her, by the way?”

“She’s convinced I’m the best thing since sliced bread,” he answers with a wry smile. “I haven’t had the heart to tell her I’ve been getting all my ideas from my boss.”

“Some of the best ones were your ideas, Daniel,” Peggy says.

“If you say so. I invited her to come to the wedding with me, but one of her friends has a wedding the same day,” Sousa says.

“That’s too bad,” Peggy says.

“Oh, Mr. Stark asked me to give this to you,” he says, handing her a folder. “I have to go back to my job now. That’s what you pay me for, after all.”

“See you later, Daniel,” Peggy says.

After he leaves, she opens the folder.

It’s an invoice for Steve’s USO uniform.

Peggy snickers.


	10. The Last Weeks Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final Wedding Plans. (Pre-the last chapter I posted.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is NOT the wedding you were all expecting, but rather a chapter I realized that I neglected to write. So this is 10, and the events of Peggy's bridal dressing room are the next chapter. But don't worry. The wedding has been written. (And Becca gets a moment.)

_Mid-June 1946_

“He did say eight, didn’t he?” Steve asks, not for the first time.

“I’m sure everything is fine,” Peggy says, thumbing through a magazine.

“What if he got abducted by aliens?” Steve asks.

“That probably wouldn’t be the strangest thing ever to happen in Brooklyn,” Peggy says.

“It could’ve happened!”

“Would you like me to go look for him?” Peggy asks.

“We could go together…” Steve says.

“Get your shoes,” Peggy says, putting her magazine down.

Steve has just disappeared into the bedroom when the front door opens, and Bucky bursts in, followed by a whirl of flounces and blonde hair.

“Nancy,” he says. “I told you not to follow me up here!”

“But _Bucky_ ,” the girl says, drawing the syllables out, “you promised me a good time.”

“I promised you a dance, Nancy,” Bucky says. “Now go home. You’ve had too much to drink tonight.”

Before Peggy can say anything, Nancy grabs Bucky by the ears and pulls him down into a forceful kiss. He squeaks and waves his hands about, obviously not wanting to hurt the girl.

Peggy clears her throat loudly, and Nancy turns her head to glare at Peggy, still holding Bucky by the head.

“And who might _you_ be?” Nancy asks archly.

“Someone who recognizes drunk people when she sees them,” Peggy replied. “Why don’t we take you home?”

“Why don’t _you_ go home?” Nancy asks.

“Because I live here,” Peggy replies. “Now, do I need to call you a cab or can you walk?”

“She lives four blocks down,” Bucky says. “Fifth floor.”

“I can go by myself, thank you very much,” Nancy says, as if the mere idea of a cab burns her skin. She turns on her heel and marches out.

“Holy shit,” Bucky says.

“How much did that woman have to drink?” Peggy asks.

“Two shots and a martini,” Bucky says. “Apparently she can’t hold her liquor.”

“Apparently,” Peggy says.

“Her lipstick tasted awful,” Bucky says, shaking out his handkerchief and wiping his tongue off with it.

“You think lipstick tastes awful?” Peggy asks.

“Yours doesn’t taste like dead wax fish,” he says.

“What doesn’t taste like dead wax fish?” Steve asks.

“Peggy’s lipstick,” Bucky says.

“Oh, good,” Steve says.

“I really hate going out with them, you know,” Bucky says, tossing his hanky into the hamper.

“We need to find you a nice girlfriend who likes women,” Peggy says.

“Georgia probably knows someone,” Bucky says.

 

* * *

 

_Late June, 1946_

“Any last requests?” Peggy asks over breakfast.

“Cap is banned from that church,” Steve says darkly.

“Of course,” Peggy says. He’s been insistent about that from the start.

Bucky smiles to himself.

 

* * *

 

_Early July, 1946_

Harrison and Charlotte land on July 2, and Peggy takes the day off from work to get them from the airport. She’s waiting in the terminal when a low-flying bundle of clothing and bags suddenly strikes her legs.

“Auntie Peggy!” it shouts.

“Ellie!” Peggy shouts back, picking up her niece. Since their meeting two months before, Harrison has been calling her weekly and Eleanor talks to Peggy nearly the entire time.

“Eleanor, come back here!” Charlotte calls.

“She’s fine, Lottie,” Peggy says, settling the girl onto her hip.

“Harry says transatlantic flights are _fun!_ ” Charlotte says. “Fun my shapely arse.”

“Language, mummy!” Eleanor scolds.

“Thank you, Ellie,” Charlotte says.

“We’ve got all the bags!” Harrison says, looking much more refreshed than his wife and daughter.

“I’ve a car waiting out front,” Peggy says.

 

July 4 is an explosion of fireworks. Peggy spends it in the darkened bedroom of Steve and Bucky’s apartment with a pillow over all of their heads. They celebrate Steve’s 28th birthday on July 5.

 

On July 12, Peggy’s afternoon is interrupted by a very confused looking Daniel Sousa.

“There’s a woman on the line named Rebecca, and she insists you come out with her immediately,” he says.

“I’m going to kill her,” Peggy mutters.

“What?” Daniel asks.

“She’s James’ sister, and I’m pretty sure she’s dragging me out for my hen party,” Peggy says, shoving things in her purse.

“Well that’s convenient,” Daniel says.

“Why?”

“Because there’s a conspiracy to drag Steve out for his bachelor party tonight,” he says. “It was mostly Howard’s idea.”

“No strip clubs,” Peggy warns.

“Scout’s honor,” Daniel says, and ducks out of her office. She leaves instructions for the afternoon, then leaves the building.

An hour later, she’s standing in the middle of her room at the Griffith, surrounded by women.

“Where are we going?” Charlotte asks from the bed.

“How easily offended are you?” Rebecca asks.

“By what?” Charlotte asks, eyes narrowing.

“Scantily clad men shaking their dangly bits,” Rebecca says. “I know a place.”

“Oh, do you?” Peggy asks.

“I know lots of places,” Rebecca says. “Is anyone going to have a problem with that?”

The room shakes their collective head.

Eight hours and ten drinks later, Peggy finds herself on the receiving end of the lewdest thing she’s ever seen. And she went to a brothel in Paris during the war.

 

The afternoon of July 14, Howard and Bucky walk into her office. Howard checks the bullpen outside, then shuts the door.

“Here’s my wedding present,” he says, and hands her a small folder.

She opens it, looks at Bucky, then at Howard, and says, “Thank you.”

“I just don’t want any sordid details,” Howard says. “The less I know the better.

“I will endeavor to do so,” Peggy says. “I make no promises for anyone else.”


	11. The Happiest Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events of the bridal dressing room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually wrote this while I was writing Chapter 9 or so of This Love, back in February. Now that it's not too hot to think, it's time to release it into the world.

_July 17, 1946_

* * *

“No, no. That is _far_ too loose,” a cranky British voice says from behind Peggy.

She sighs heavily, and not for the first time that day. “Aunt Maude,” she said with scathing politeness, “it is perfectly tight.”

“Margaret,” Maude says, “You’re marrying a _Yankee_ , and a _working class_ one at that. I have already expressed my distaste with your choice in spouse, and have refrained from further mention of it. But you _will_ listen to me, young lady.” She says _America_ like it’s a curse word.

Peggy clenches her fist to keep from decking the old hag. Her mother’s aunt has been trying to direct her life since Peggy was at least 8. After her father died of a freak heart attack when Peggy was fifteen, Maude moved in and promptly took control of the household. Peggy’s mother Esther had been understandably shattered, and Harrison, at 19, was already moved into his own house, and engaged to his future wife, Charlotte. Maude had been a large part of the reason that Peggy was so eager to leave the house and join the Military Nurses. That career path hadn’t worked out as she planned, having been noticed by agents of certain organizations, they ‘accidentally’ sent her on a mission, and the rest was history.

“I am _aware_ of that,” Peggy grits out. “I’m still not going to change my mind.”

“No good will come of it. You’ll see. There are so many good English girls who met their ‘soulmate’ Yankee soldier during the war, and now they’re left with nothing but swollen bellies and crying babies,” Maude says primly.

Peggy whirls on her, dress belling around her calves.

“Hey, Peg,” Georgia says suddenly. “I have a… problem… with the, uh…”

“With the roses,” Rebecca says.

“Yes, with the roses,” Georgia says too quickly.

Peggy raises an eyebrow at her, but goes anyway. Georgia stops them in the hall, and shakes her head.

“Are you particularly fond of that woman?” she asks.

“Not at all,” Peggy says. “Why?”

“Good,” Georgia says.

“You need to stop that,” Rebecca says, the door doing nothing to block the sound from inside the dressing room.

“Excuse me?” Maude replies.

“Stop talking down to Peggy like she’s six, stop insulting her fiancé, a man I will tell you that I consider a brother, and for the love of all that is holy, stop being a miserable old hag,” Rebecca says.

Peggy is taken aback. She’s never heard Rebecca speak with such impunity before.

Maude gives a sharp intake of breath, and Peggy can practically see her mouth working like a fish as she struggles to gain her words. “Well I _never_ ,” Maude says. “Do you know who I am?”

“I don’t give a damn who you are,” Rebecca says. “Peggy is family now, and no one insults my family.”

“I will have you _removed_ from this wedding,” Maude says, her voice increasing in volume.

“By whom?” Rebecca asks, sickly sweet. “I’m a bridesmaid, my brother’s the best man, my parents organized a large portion of this, and most of the large burly men out there are rather fond of Steve Rogers.”

“You, you, you _little bitch_ ,” Maude says.

Everyone in the dressing room gasps, and then there’s a silence.

Little Eleanor’s voice breaks it, “That’s not very nice,” she says. “Mommy says mean people have to go to the corner.”

“Yes, Maude,” Charlotte says. “Why don’t you go sit with Esther, and let the people who actually want to see Peggy be happy be in this room with her.”

Maude makes a huffing noise, and a few moments later, storms out of the room, her nose held high, purse clutched to her chest. Peggy and Georgia suddenly become very interested in a wall hanging.

They come back into the room, and Rebecca flops dramatically down onto the settee.

“Thank you,” Peggy says simply.

“My pleasure,” Rebecca says. “I’ve been wanting to tell that woman off for _days._ ”

“I’ve been wanting to tell her off for _years_ ,” Peggy replies, picking up a bobby pin and setting straight an errant curl in her hair. “It’s for fear of Mother’s heart that I haven’t. And Ellie, thank you for telling her that she was being mean. Not many little girls are brave enough to do that.”

Eleanor blushes, and hides in her mother’s shoulder. “Y’Welcome, Auntie Peggy.”

They return to the task of dressing, hair, and makeup, and are just starting on Rebecca’s hair when the door opens, and Helen walks in. Thomas, who has outgrown the nickname Toad, is sitting on his mother’s hip.

“Bucky just sent me over here to tell you that, and I quote, ‘Some crazy aunt of Peggy’s is tryin’ t’get Harry to call off the wedding’,” Helen says.

“That would be my fault,” Rebecca says.

“And a damn good job of it she did,” Louisa says from the corner.

“So I heard,” Helen says, trying not to let her amusement show.

“Do you want me to go apologize?” Rebecca asks Peggy.

“Apologize? For that? Absolutely not,” Peggy says.

“Good. Because I’m terrible at apologies,” Rebecca says.

“Also,” Helen says, “Steve has thrown up twice.”

“He has?” Peggy asks. “I wasn’t sure that was possible.”

“I can bring you the bucket if you want proof,” Helen says.

“No, thank you,” Peggy replies.

The door bursts open, and they all turn to see what the next crisis is. Angie comes in, looking extremely flustered.

“Sorry I’m late,” she says. “It started raining, and I was just getting off the bus.”

“It’s all right, Angie,” Peggy says.

“You’re a mess,” Georgia says after a moment.

“The bus splashed me with mud!” Angie says.

“Becca, get her dress. Charlotte, you’re on hair. I’ll do makeup. Ellie, can you go out into the church and get me a flower from one of the bouquets? Just one,” Georgia says, taking control of the situation.

Angie is enveloped in a swirl of feminine activity, and emerges an hour later looking a bit stunned.

“That’s amazing!” she says, looking at herself in the mirror.

“Thank you,” Georgia says smugly.

Peggy has been occupying herself by playing a quiet game with Eleanor, and returns the child to her mother as Angie approaches.

“I can’t believe you’re getting married,” she says. “I know I’ve only known you for a little while, but it seems like we’ve known each other for years.”

“Sometimes it surprises even me that I’m getting married, Angie,” Peggy says.

Helen returns, this time without Thomas. “The priest says he’s ready for you any time,” she says.

“Tell him we’ll be just a few more minutes,” Peggy says.

“Will do,” Helen says.

“I take it that’s our clue to evacuate?” Charlotte asks.

“Anyone who isn’t in the bridal party, please take your seats,” Georgia says.

Charlotte and the other women who have filtered into the room get up and leave, wishing Peggy luck on the way out. Eleanor is placed into Georgia’s custody, for her duties as the flower girl.

Peggy takes a deep breath, then pulls on her shoes.

“Let’s do this,” she says, and walks confidently toward the door.

 


	12. Of Our Lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you didn't notice, the previous chapter now has one before it that I added after. (I added a new Chapter 10, and Peggy's dressing room is now Chapter 11.)
> 
> Now, on with the getting married.

_July 17, 1946_

* * *

 

Peggy feels suddenly light on her feet as she lines up behind Rebecca. Helen rushes up, out of breath.

“Father Julius was just taken to the hospital,” she pants.

“Why?” Rebecca asks, concerned.

“Gastrointestinal distress,” Helen says. At Angie’s confused look, “He has the shits.”

Peggy smothers a rude laugh. “Is there another… back up priest?” she asks.

“His name is Father Marius,” Helen says. “And he’s… much nicer than Julius.”

“Oh good,” Peggy says.

“We just didn’t want you to be confused,” Helen says. “I have to get back before Tommy turns into a Toad again.”

She leaves in a hurry, the door slamming behind her.

“Do you think it’s normal to want to throw up?” Peggy asks.

“Well, since Steve’s already done that, I’d say yes,” Rebecca replies.

“I also want to dance on the rooftops,” Peggy says.

“That’s also probably normal,” Rebecca says.

The music starts, and in the small corridor, the thrum of the organ makes the very walls vibrate. A few beats in, Georgia opens the door, and ushers Eleanor out into the aisle. She walks down the aisle with all the stately elegance her four year old body can manage. And in the process, forgets to throw the flowers out.

Peggy can tell the instant she realizes she’s forgotten them, as she freezes, then upends the entire basket directly next to Aunt Maude, who sniffs.

The women in line all turn to look at Peggy, who bites her lip in an attempt not to smile. She fails, and says, “More for Maude to complain about.”

Georgia is next out, and she subtly spreads out the pile of petals as she passes by. At the same time, from the other door, Harrison enters, they meet before the altar, she gives him a cheeky grin, then they take their places. The music swells, and Angie takes her cue to follow Georgia, meeting Dum Dum, who still has the bowler hat on, now adorned with a flower that matches the one on his lapel. Peggy snorts to herself.

Rebecca turns to Peggy, gives her a kiss on the cheek, and says, “This is it.” She tilts her head up, and flounces down the aisle with considerable style. Howard accompanies her, but halfway down the aisle, he slips and falls. A gasp ripples through the audience, but he hauls himself to his feet, and dusts off, giving everyone a winning smile. His face is bright red when he takes his place, though. Rebecca just shakes her head.

The music reaches a crescendo, and from the other side of the church, Steve and Bucky walk down the aisle together. During dress rehearsal, a few comments (mostly from the priest) had been said about that, but were promptly ignored. They reach their destination, and Peggy sees Steve grip the hem of his dress uniform jacket, his knuckles white.

The music changes, and everyone looks toward the door Peggy is partially concealed behind. She takes a deep breath, considers that she’s very well oxygenated that day, and pulls the door the rest of the way open. The entire congregation murmurs as she steps out amidst the pews. All she’s looking at, though, are the pair of faces on the stage. It takes all her effort not to bolt down the aisle and to keep in step with the music.

The fact of her walking herself down the aisle had also not gone uncommented on, but Peggy had firmly explained that no one was “giving her away”, and she could take care of herself, thank you very much.

She keeps her eyes firmly on Steve’s shoes until she passes Maude, then she looks up into what is quite possibly the most stupefying grin she’s ever seen. It threatens to rip his face in half. Behind him, Bucky’s wearing the exact same shit-eating grin he’d worn the morning after Peggy sprang him from the drunk tank.

Peggy places her hands in Steve’s, the heat radiating off his chest is sweltering, but, she reflects, so is hers.

“Dearly beloved,” Fr. Marius starts. The rest of his sermon is lost on Peggy, something about God and angels, but what she’ll remember most later is two distinct shades of blue.

“Steve, will you have this woman to be your wedded wife, to live together in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep only unto her, so long as you both shall live?” Marius says.

“I will,” Steve says.

“Peggy, will you have this man to be your wedded husband, to live together in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep you only to him, so long as you both shall live?”

“I will,” Peggy says. They only lie a little.

“Do you have vows prepared?” Marius asks.

“We do,” Peggy says.

“Then you may proceed,” he says.

Steve opens his mouth, then visibly freezes. Peggy stifles a laugh at the exaggerated movement.

“I take you, Peggy, to be my wife,” Bucky prompts. The crowd gasps.

“I, Steve, take you, Peggy, to be my wife,” Steve says.

“To have and to hold,” Bucky prompts again.

“To have and to hold, from this day forward,” Steve says, seemingly remembering.

“For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health,” Bucky says, Steve repeating a word behind him.

“For all the days of my life,” Steve finishes.

Peggy sneaks a glance out into the crowd. There are tears, a few confused expressions, and Maude is a particularly unattractive shade of puce.

“And Peggy?” Marius says.

“I, Peggy, take you, Steve, to be my husband. To have and to hold, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, for all the days of our lives,” Peggy says, the men before her suddenly swimming.

She sniffs rather unattractively, and Steve thumbs the tears out of her eyes, which makes her giggle.

“The rings?” Marius says.

Bucky produces one from the breast pocket of his coat, and Rebecca shakes the other out from her bouquet. Peggy notices the bouquet in that moment, the red roses, white carnations, and baby’s breath she had picked, but someone had dyed the baby’s breath bright blue. Red, white, and blue. Despite Steve’s insistence that Captain America be banned from the ceremony. She takes the ring from Rebecca’s hand, and looks over Steve’s shoulder at Bucky, eyebrow raised.

He smirks.

Marius blesses the rings, then asks Steve to repeat after him.

“With this ring, I thee wed,” Steve says, sliding the ring onto Peggy’s shaking finger.

“With this ring, I thee wed,” she repeats, noting that his hand is shaking just as much.

“These rings form a covenant of marriage,” Marius says. “Inasmuch as these two have entered into this union, declared before God and you all their love and faithfulness, it is my great pleasure to pronounce them husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Steve bends down and kisses her, his hands framing her face. They hold it for too long for someone in the audience, who coughs rather loudly.

Peggy looks out into the congregation, more amused than anything else.

“May I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Steven Rogers,” Marius says.

The organ strikes up again, and they lead the party out of the church. People start to approach them, but Rebecca herds them away. Peggy pulls Steve and Bucky into a room, and closes the door behind them.

“What?” Bucky asks.

“Just wait a moment,” Peggy says. “I’m keeping my maiden name, by the way.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Steve asks, looking genuinely confused.

“I knew I married you for a reason,” Peggy says.

There’s a knock on the door, and Peggy calls out, “Come in.”

Rebecca slides in, shutting it behind her. “We have to make this quick,” she says. She shakes her bouquet again, and another ring falls out, this one on a chain. Peggy takes it from her, and turns to Steve, whose eyebrows are furrowed.

“What’s that for?” he asks.

“I couldn’t find anything magnetic,” she replies.

“Magnetic?” he asks, as Bucky sucks in a breath.

“Yes, dear,” Peggy says.

“Why would you… Oh,” he says.

“It’s for you,” she says. “Since you both already married me.”

“Steve, will you have this man to be your wedded husband, to live together in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, except your wife, keep you only to them, so long as you all shall live?” Rebecca asks.

“I will,” Steve says for the second time that day.

“Bucky, will you have this man to be your wedded husband, to live together in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, except your wife, keep you only to them, so long as you all shall live?”

“I will,” Bucky says, his eyes going glassy.

“Your vows?” Rebecca asks.

“I, Steve, take you, Bucky, to be my husband. To have and to hold, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, for all the days of my life,” Steve says.

“I, Bucky, take you, Steve, to be my husband. To have and to hold, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, for all the days of my life,” Bucky repeats.

“Technically, this ring was present when the others were blessed,” Rebecca says.

Steve is holding the ring in one hand, and Bucky’s hand in the other. He reaches out and grabs Peggy’s hand, and threads their fingers together around the chain.

“With this ring, we thee wed,” he says, barely above a whisper, slipping the chain around Bucky’s head, where the ring lands with a small bounce just over his heart.

“You may kiss the groom,” Rebecca says, and before she finishes the sentence, the two of them are on each other, nearly pulling Peggy over.

For just a moment, the entire world seems to stand still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are about three more chapters left, maybe four if things get extra frisky. But I've already planned a nasty cliffhanger, don't you worry your pretty little minds. (It's a doozy. Not quite as bad as the end of This Love... but close.)


	13. And So They Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happiness, then Maude, then JFC, Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sequel's already got a nasty, nasty start. Also, Steve's an idiot sometimes, but we love him anyway.

_July 17, 1946_

The reception line is finally dwindling down, and Peggy manages to get a drink of water for the first time in more than four hours. The bridesmaids are running around furiously trying to get people seated so dinner can start, and having no luck of it.

“Maude’s refusing to sit in her assigned seat,” Rebecca mutters under her breath to Peggy.

“Because we put her behind the pole?” Peggy asks.

“Of course,” Rebecca says.

“Tell her I’m very sorry, but I didn’t know it was there. And give her a bit of booze, it should calm her down,” Peggy says.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Rebecca says, then hurries off.

The majority of the guests have taken their seats, and Rebecca has appeased Maude when Angie comes up to Peggy, breathless.

“He’s here,” she hisses.

“Who?” Peggy asks, knowing full well the answer.

“Daniel! My boyfriend!” Angie says.

Just then the man in question walks up to shake Steve’s hand.

“I’d ask you to take good care of our Director, but it seems that she can take care of herself,” Daniel says.

“Of course she can,” Steve says. “She’s the single most competent person I’ve ever met.”

“Daniel?” Angie says.

“My god it _is_ you,” he says. “When you said you had a friend’s wedding this weekend…”

“This is your secret girlfriend?” Steve asks.

“I wouldn’t call her a secret,” Daniel says. “But yes.”

“Peggy,” Steve says. “How long have you known?”

“First date,” Peggy says, snagging a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

“And you never told us?” Angie asks.

“I had a feeling you would find out eventually,” Peggy says.

“But then, all that advice you gave me…” Daniel says.

“Oh, some of it was straight from Angie’s mouth,” Peggy says. “I’m good, but I’m not that good.”

“Didn’t I tell you we had a fairy godmother?” Angie asks, prodding Daniel in the ribs with her elbow.

“I just didn’t think it was my boss,” he says.

“Peggy’s your boss? What exactly _is_ it that you do?” Angie asks.

He’s saved from having to answer by Rebecca clearing her throat loudly and jerking her thumb at the tables. They all take their seats, the waiters stream out of the kitchen carrying trays of food and deposit it in front of everyone.

After the course is finished, the bandleader finishes the song the band was playing, and announces the maid of honor speech.

Rebecca stands, and pulls a paper out of the bodice of her dress, eliciting a laugh from the guests. “I’m Rebecca Barnes, for those of you who don’t know. I’ve known Steve for literally my entire life,” she begins. “He was there the day I was born, according to my mother. Joined at the hip, he and Bucky were. Well, probably still are. Steve’s like a brother to me, and I couldn’t be any happier to see him getting married. Now, as for his taste in women, it improved significantly sometime after joining the Army.

“Peggy’s the third sister I never had, and I’ve only known her for a year or so. The world had better watch out, if the two of them decide to do something, it’s going to get done. A long and happy life to the both of you.” She raises her glass, and takes a sip.

The rest of the guests do the same as the second course is delivered. Bucky shuffles the cards that contain his speech on the table in front of him, then stands when the bandleader announces him.

“I’m Bucky Barnes, and I’ve been Steve’s best friend since I pulled him out of a fight by the back of his collar when I was six. Now, I’m sure you’re all expecting a wealth of embarrassing stories, and I’m glad to report that I’m here to deliver. I’m not stopping until Steve’s at least the color of a beet. Speaking of beets…”

“Oh no,” Steve says, already approaching a light pink.

“Steve’s mother Sarah was as close to a saint as anyone I ever met. She had to be, to put up with the two of us constantly running over her house. When Steve was twelve, we decided to treat his mom to a birthday dinner, cooked in her very own kitchen. We skipped school, and spent the money Steve had been saving for months on ingredients. Took it back to his apartment, and spent the whole afternoon on the thing. Used my grandma Louisa’s recipe for it. Unfortunately for us, the grocer was out of beet greens that day, so we substituted the beet itself. You can imagine how that went. Sarah ate every bite of it, though.

“Now, did I ever tell anyone about the time in Paris?”

He tells a few more stories, Steve growing steadily darker with each one.

“Ah, now that’s the shade I was going for,” Bucky finishes. “To Steve and Peggy.”

The crowd toasts, and claps.

After the meal finishes, the dishes are cleared away, and the tables pulled back from the dance floor. The bandleader announces the first dance, and Steve freezes

“You didn’t tell me I’d have to dance,” he says.

“Oh, yes I did,” Peggy says. “You’re not getting out of it now. Just follow my lead.”

“Aren’t I supposed to lead?” Steve asks.

Peggy snorts. She takes his hand and pulls him out on the floor, then the music starts, and she, indeed, leads. He’s still a terrible dancer, but Peggy’s nothing if not good at her job. So she makes Steve look good, and halfway through the song, Bucky pulls Rebecca on the floor, and the crowd’s focus shifts to them. The song ends and the dance floor is quickly filled by a swirl of people.

Hours later, it’s time for the bouquet and garter tosses. The single ladies in the room all group together, Peggy faces away from them, and tosses the small bouquet over her head. She hears a tussle and a squeal, then turns around to find a very red-faced Georgia Barnes holding the flowers.

After retrieving the garter, Steve tosses it over his shoulder to the crowd of single men. As if some kind of vengeful wedding god were watching, Howard catches it. Peggy’s pretty sure she sees Wendy in the crowd glaring at him. Georgia nearly matches the shade that Steve was during Bucky’s speech as Howard slides the garter up her leg. As soon as it’s politely possible, she flees into the crowd.

Then there’s the cake cutting. The slicing goes off fine, and even so far as to shove the small piece in each other’s mouth. But the breaking of tradition in this wedding has gone far enough for Maude, apparently. As soon as she receives her piece of cake, she walks up and shoves it into Steve’s face herself.

“Dear god, Aunt Maude,” Peggy says. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Six cups’a whiskey, lassie,” Maude says, then promptly falls over.

There is a small cheer from the back of the room.

 

* * *

 

_July 18, 1946_

 

The sun’s setting over the cliffs as Steve puts their suitcases on the floor of the small cottage’s bedroom.

“I’m still stiff from the plane,” he says. “Do you mind if I go for a short walk?”

“Don’t fall off a cliff,” she says. “And take a flashlight.”

“I’ll be back in half an hour,” he promises, then kisses her and leaves the cottage.

As soon as he crests the hill, Howard’s wedding present arrives. Peggy shuffles him into the kitchen and hands him a cup of water.

“How was your flight?” she asks.

“The dame next to me talked about her ‘nice sister’ for the entire time,” he says. “I didn’t have the heart to tell her I was married. She looked so happy.”

“I’m sure her sister is a lovely woman,” Peggy mutters.

He wanders over to the phonograph in the living room. A few moments later, music emits from it.

“May I have this dance, Ms. Carter?” he asks.

“You may,” she says with a smirk.

He’s a much better dancer than Steve, although neither of them would _tell_ Steve that. The furniture in the living room is awkward to move around, but they do it, sometimes going over it. A sound from outside announces Steve’s return, and it conveniently coincides with the end of the song. Peggy’s face still hurts from smiling so much, and it’s not showing any signs of stopping.

They expect him to come right in, but he remains outside. Peggy shuts off the music, and the sound of something shattering comes from outside. She goes to the door and leans out. “Steve?” she calls.

“One day,” he says.

“What?” she asks.

“It’s been one day,” he replies.

“What’s he talking about?” Bucky asks Peggy.

“I’ve not a clue,” Peggy replies.

“In Scotland, no less,” Steve says to the sky. “You come to America and find yourself a nice Yankee boy. Marry him up nice and good before you flounce off with another one?”

“Excuse me?” Peggy asks.

“Two of us aren’t good enough for you?” Steve asks.

“Steve,” Peggy starts.

“No, I don’t want to hear it,” Steve says.

Peggy and Bucky exchange another glance, matching confused expressions.

“Why do you—” Peggy starts.

“Oh, don’t you know?” Steve asks, still not looking at her.

“I have no bloody clue, Steve,” she replies, sighing in frustration.

He rounds on her, and whatever he’s going to say catches in his throat.

“Oh,” he says.

“Surprise,” Bucky says sarcastically.

“Oh no,” he says.

“Howard arranged a wedding present for you,” Peggy says. “We didn’t tell you, because we thought you’d be happy.”

“Oh, shit, Peggy,” he says. “I didn’t mean it. Any of it… really.”

“Didn’t you?” she asks. “You were yelling pretty loudly there for a few minutes.”

“I just… I…”

“You’re the first woman who’s ever looked twice at him,” Bucky says.

“I… I know you wouldn’t… but there’s this tiny part of me that says you’re only with me for, well… this,” he says, dragging a hand down his chest.

Peggy barks a laugh, “Oh, Steve, my love. I told you this the first time. I was completely ready to jump you in that car on the way to Erskine’s lab.”

“I just can’t believe you,” Steve says sadly.

“Jesus Christ, Steve,” Bucky says. “The two of us both knew you when you were skinny, and we both wanted you then, too. Although, again, that’s a nice bonus.”

“How long?” he asks Bucky.

“Oh, I’d say sixteen years or so,” Bucky says.

“Since you were twelve,” Steve says.

“I thought you knew that,” Bucky says.

“I… it’s just…” Steve stutters.

“Oh, shut up and kiss already,” Peggy says. “Then kiss me. And then let’s go to bed.”

And so they do.


	14. Fairy Pools and Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scotland and Ireland.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things. 
> 
> 1\. I just finished an online class, so updates should continue more frequently. (Also see 3.)
> 
> 2\. One more chapter of Treach, and then a break before the sequel. The cliffhanger's a nasty one. It's worse than Snow Outside's Ch. 10, but I personally don't think it's as bad as This Love. 
> 
> 3\. Which brings me to the final point, I signed up for Camp NaNoWriMo for the next one. My goal is 30k in 31 days. Which means updates pretty much daily or every other day. After a short break for the cliffhanger, because I'm a rude, rude person. 
> 
> 4\. Look up Skye's fairy pools. Ignore the pictures of the purple trees.

_July 20, 1946_

The second morning in Scotland is much sunnier than the first had been. It’s not surprising that it had rained the entire first day, the whole of the British Isles are known for their rain, but there’s something about a sunlit dew-sprinkled morning on the heath that makes the whole world seem to melt away, just for a little while. The world’s turned emerald green and silver, the sky slowly lightening to blue, still the deepest of blues in the west as Peggy wanders out behind the cabin just after sunrise. The heather is blooming shades of lilac and lavender, brushing the hem of her skirt. She wanders deep out into the heath, springy plants obscuring her trail as the dawn lightens into day. Hours later, the cloudless vault of the sky vibrantly blue above her, she wanders through a glen.

The trees here are verdant with the midsummer rain and heat, branches far above her head. The path she’s following is faint, but its purpose becomes evident a moment later, when the trees open to admit a view of a pool. Lined with heather on both sides, the water runs deep and clear. Deep chasms in the rock collect the fluid crystal, shining in the sun a deep, familiar shade of blue. The mountain in front of her looms large, spearing into the sky that’s nearly the same shade of blue, nothing she’s seen outside of this one tiny spot in nature… and her husband’s eyes. She looks back over her shoulder, as if to assure herself that no one is coming, then strips out of her clothing, folding it neatly on a rock.

They call these fairy pools, and it almost seems as if the fairies themselves are calling from the water. It’s shockingly cold, and she feels the air punched straight out of her lungs. She scrambles out, but almost immediately leaps back in. The second entrance is less harsh, and her body quickly adjusts to the temperature. Time slips away as the sun arcs across the sky, and it’s nearly overhead when the footsteps sound on the gravel of the bank of the pool.

“Jesus Christ,” a voice says. “You’ve been gone since before sunrise.”

“Shh,” she quiets.

“Huh?”

“It’s something about this place,” she says.

“What is this?”

“It’s Skye.”

 

* * *

 

“I am not getting on that,” Steve says flatly.

“He’s just a horse, Steve,” Peggy says. “He’s not going to bite you.”

“He could _step_ on me!” Steve says.

“Oh, get on!” Bucky encourages from the back of his own bay gelding. “You jumped out of a plane!”

“Into anti-aircraft fire!” Peggy says.

“You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?” Steve mutters.

“Nope,” Peggy and Bucky say in unison.

Steve glares at the gelding again, but gingerly steps into the stirrup and swings his leg over the saddle. He lands hard, and the horse objects, jumping forward. Peggy has a firm hand on his lead line, so he doesn’t get far.

“See?” Steve asks.

“You’d jump too if someone landed hard on _your_ back,” Peggy says. She unclips the lead, and turns to her own horse.

They travel out into the open land of the heath, craggy mountains rising on either side.

“It’s beautiful here,” Steve says a few hours later.

“Skye is one of my favorite places in the world,” Peggy says. “We used to come here when I was little. Granny Eva would tell us stories about the fairies. She said they lived under mounds in the heath.”

“I’ve always wanted to visit Ireland,” Steve says. “My mother was born in Belfast, and I know she left family there. Someday I want to track them down.”

“Let’s go over that rise,” Peggy says, pointing.

Steve sighs.

 

* * *

 

_July 24, 1946_

“Where are we?” Steve asks, turning the map upside down.

“Belfast,” Peggy says.

“I can see _that_ ,” Steve says.

“Why don’t we ask someone?” Peggy suggests.

Steve mutters something under his breath, but approaches a man walking his dog. The man points to an area of the map, then continues on his way.

“He said we were here,” Steve says, indicating the cross streets.

“Oh, good,” Peggy says. “I was hoping we were close.”

“Close to what?” Steve asks.

“My wedding present to you,” Peggy says.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” he says.

“Trust me, Steve, you’ll like it,” Peggy says, and turns the corner. A little down the street is a café with street seating. Peggy takes one of them, and Steve sits next to her. “We’re meeting her here.”

“Her?”

“You’ll see,” Peggy says.

They order, coffee for Steve, a small pastry and tea for Peggy, and wait. Not ten minutes later, two women come down the street.

“You weren’t lying, chit,” Johanna McKenna says.

“Ma!” Jenny scolds her.

“Hello, Jenny, Johanna,” Peggy says.

“Peggy?” Steve asks.

“So you’re Sarah’s son,” Johanna says, sitting down in one of the empty seats.

“Uh, yes,” Steve says, confused.

“You didn’t tell him, did you?” Jenny asks Peggy in a whisper.

“Oh, of course not. I just want to see how long it will take him to sort it,” Peggy says.

“Sort what?” Steve asks.

“Oh, you’ll figure it out,” Peggy says, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms.

“How old are you?” Johanna asks.

“I just turned 28, ma’am,” Steve says.

Jenny leans forward, and leans her chin on her palm.

Steve jumps.

“Jenny McKenna?” he asks.

She smirks and nods.

“How did you… what… I… Peggy?” Steve stutters.

“Remember the trip I took in May?” Peggy asks.

“So _that’s_ why it took you so long. I _knew_ it wasn’t just your… work,” Steve says, catching himself on the last.

“What gave it away?” Jenny asks.

“Mom used to do the exact same thing when she was interested in something,” Steve says.

“Sarah and Janet are my two bookends,” Johanna says. “And if I didn’t know better, I’d’ve sworn they were twins.”

“Then you’re…” Steve says.

“Sarah’s ma,” Johanna confirms.

The conversation from there steers into discussion of Sarah, Steve’s childhood, and the like.

The café owners have to chase them out of the seats as the sun starts to set.

“It’s been nice to meet you, Steven,” Johanna says. “Write sometime. And if you’re ever in Ireland again, just ring.”

“It would be my pleasure…Granny?” Steve says.

Johanna’s face splits into a wide grin, and she hugs Steve.

“Keep your wife happy, she’s a good lass,” Johanna says. “And chit? You write too.”

“Of course,” Peggy says.

“Come back soon,” Jenny says, hugging them both. “And write often!”

They bid their final farewells and go back to their hotel room.

“Thank you,” Steve says.

“I’m glad you liked them,” Peggy says.

“Oh, I’d be _glad_ to show you my _appreciation_ ,” Steve says, with what he probably thinks is a leer.

Peggy snaps her fingers, “Get to it then.”

He tackles her onto the bed and does just that.

 


	15. In Screaming Color

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Until next time.

_Early September 1946_

Peggy reached for the trashbin again. Something in her breakfast hadn’t agreed with her, and the nausea had been near constant since she had arrived in the Indianapolis SSR office.

“I apologize Mr… Hanser,” Peggy says.

“Why am I here again?” Hanser asks.

“I’m interviewing SSR agents,” Peggy says.

“Yes, I know that. What for?” Hanser says.

“That’s confidential. Now, did you fill out the questionnaire?” Peggy says.

Ten minutes later, Hanser leaves the room. Peggy follows him, and slowly knocks her head against the wall.

“Why did I think this was a good idea?” she asks the familiar approaching footsteps.

“I brought you coffee. And because you need qualified agents,” Steve says.

“Ugh, no,” she says. “Sorry, love, but coffee’s the last thing I need.”

“Are you all right?” he asks.

“I’ve thrown up four times today,” she says. “I think it was the sausage.”

He kisses her forehead, “Here comes the next, maybe he’ll be better than the last.”

“I hope so,” she mutters.

As it turns out, he is. Lawrence Kincaide is one of the single most competent SSR agents Peggy’s ever met.

At the the end of the day, Peggy approaches the unit chief, “Chief Redman,” she says.

“Find anyone you like?” he asks.

“Kincaide,” she says.

“I thought as much,” Redman says. “I’ve already drawn up his transfer paperwork. Sign on the dotted line and he’ll be in New Jersey by the beginning of next week.”

Peggy exhales heavily, “Thank you so much.”

“Been meeting resistance?” Redman asks.

“SSR unit chiefs have an unfortunate habit of thinking they’re a law unto themselves,” she says, taking the pen he offers and signing.

“You were under Dooley, right?” Redman asks. At Peggy’s nod, he continues, “Dooley and I were partners in my first year. Good man. Did you steal his best, too?”

“His ‘best’ isn’t very fond of me,” Peggy says. “I may have punched the man once.”

Redman snorts. “You might be a woman in a boys’ club, but you certainly play the game like one of the boys.”

“My position isn’t easy,” Peggy says. “But I do enjoy it.”

“Good,” Redman says.

The next week sees Detroit, Milwaukee, and Chicago. None of them yields any promising agents, and it’s with a sense of despair that the Captain America Victory Tour goes to St. Louis.

In the morning, Peggy removes a skirt from her suitcase, and pulls it on, then swears.

“What?” Steve asks.

“I think being on the road like this has made me gain weight. I seem to have gained half a stone since we got back from Scotland,” she says, chucking the skirt back in the suitcase and removing a more forgiving garment.

The unit chief is incredibly uncooperative, despite Peggy’s written and signed order, and it takes Steve coming into the room and looming behind her for something to get done. He’s useful for something, after all.

All the agents here are a bust as well, until the final one.

“This is …Agent…Boothby,” the St. Louis chief says.

He holds the door open and a diminutive woman walks in.

“ _Agent_ Boothby,” Peggy says, extending her hand. “I’m Peggy Carter.”

“Pleasure,” Boothby says quietly. The chief lets the door slam behind him.

“Is he always like that?” Peggy asks.

“Like what?” Boothby asks.

“An ass,” Peggy says.

Boothby nods.

“Why do you work for the SSR?” Peggy asks.

“I blend in,” Boothby says. “No one looks twice at a tiny woman. They use me as bait.”

Peggy sighs in frustration. “Do you like your job?”

“Is this room private?” Boothby asks.

“It is,” Peggy says.

“I hate my job. I love the SSR, and on the rare occasion I seriously get assigned to a case, I’m _good_ at it. But because I’m a woman, I never could do anything right, according to my chief,” Boothby says.

“The secret is doing it alone at night,” Peggy says under her breath.

“Really?” Boothby asks.

“That’s how I got my job,” Peggy says with a smirk.

“I want your job,” Boothby says wistfully.

“Would you like to come work for SHIELD?” Peggy asks.

“Absolutely,” Boothby says.

“I’ll fill out the paperwork, and have your chief sign it. Be in New Jersey by next Tuesday, and you’ll have the job,” Peggy says. “It was nice to meet you, Agent Boothby.”

“Anna,” she says.

Later that night, Peggy and Bucky are standing in the back of the theater while Steve trots around on stage. The costume resembles his USO tour costume only in the color. And the tightness. Bucky had insisted the pants be tailored as close as possible. Peggy didn’t disagree with him.

The chorus line was just getting to the point where the Howling Commandos carry Steve through a field of battle.

“Like that ever happened,” Bucky had snorted the first time he saw the routine. “He carried _us_ through, once.”

“It’s a play, James,” Peggy had commented. Then, “How much to get the choreographer to turn him on his side?”

“Those pants are a gift from God,” Bucky had muttered.

Peggy hummed her agreement.

There’s another motorcycle being lifted into the air when a man comes up to Peggy. “Director, there’s someone who needs to speak to you,” he says, holding out a folder.

Peggy turns to take it.

The man’s hand beneath the folder twitches, and there’s a faint pop.

Pain explodes in Peggy’s thigh.

What seems like a hundred pops follow it, and suddenly Peggy’s shirt is drenched in red.

The blue of Bucky’s eyes as he stares in horror at her is the last thing she sees before the world goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr!](http://fireflyslove.tumblr.com)


End file.
